That Pivotal Moment
by A-Dream's-Nightmare
Summary: An AU in which Coulson found Grant Ward first.
1. Welcome to the Family

A/N: So, there have been multiple prompts for this and a few fics regarding 'what if'. So I've decided to throw my own hat into the ring...

Juvenile Secure Unit

Plymouth, Massachusetts

Fifteen Years Ago

"You've got a visitor."

The angry 17-year-old glared at the man who dared speak to him, much less drag him out of his cell for a visitation. The guard was actually a friendly enough guy, for a high security juvenile detention guard; he was just doing his job, Grant knew that. He just didn't like visitations. Grant Ward had no friends, no one cared enough to visit him. There was only his family...and he'd rather go the rest of his life without seeing THEM again.

The guard want perturbed by Grant's surliness; he's dealt with angry and violent prisoners before. So rather than snap at the boy, he just waited patiently for him to stand up and exit his cell. He knew the kid was one losses off little prick, but he was smart and knew he'd get in trouble if he caused problems. So here he was, willingly following this guard down the hallway to the visitation center.

Once inside, brown eyes scanned the cafeteria-like room, searching for a familiar face. He half expected to see his no good parents or -God forbid!- his brother, come to gloat that he was still alive and Grant failed. Again. But to his surprise, he saw no one he recognized. The few people in the room were already sitting with other maroon-clad prisoners. The only table without such a boy was occupied by a middle aged man wearing a dark grey suit. A younger man in a black suit stood flanking his left side. To Grant's eyes, they looked like very expensive lawyers. 'Someone's mommy and daddy is paying a lot of money for their kid to get out of trouble,' he thought.

Until the older man stood up and called out," Grant Ward?"

Grant froze, his feet skidding to a halt and his juvie-issued sneakers making a slight squeaking sound on the tiles floor. The man in the grey suit smiled reassuringly and gestured to the seat in front of him, across from the round cafeteria table," Please sit down. We just want to talk." He seemed amiable enough, but the other man just gazed at Grant with barely concealed judgement.

Seeing no other course of action, he decided to play along and sit down. He might as well see what they wanted with him. "My name's Phil Coulson," the first suit sat back down and pointed with one thumb to his partner," This is my associate, Clint Barton." Then he held out his other hand in an obvious attempt to shake Grant's hand.

He just glared at it.

"O-kay." Coulson retracted his hand, putting some emphasis on the O. But he didn't sound annoyed, something Grant found odd. A move like that usually earned him a box to his ears.

"What do you want?" Grant inquired, his curiosity finally boiling over. These men were too well dressed and well mannered to have any association with his family, but men like them don't normally visit violent adolescents in juvie, either. So they must want something from him; perhaps to trick him into confessing? It seemed likely.

All of a sudden, Barton sat down next to Coulson," We have some questions and we'd like you to answer them." Grant stiffened in his seat; so he was right.

"Play nice, Clint," Coulson muttered but was ignored.

"Did you know I was visiting your military camp when you went AWOL and stole your superior officer's car?" Barton began. Grant blinked in confusion; he was WHAT? Barton continued," So why did you drive over 1000 likes back home, only to burn it to the ground?" The kid pursed his lips and didn't say a word. If he hadn't been looking for it, Clint might've missed the tiny flinch he gave. 'Impressive,' he pondered.' Kid's got a pretty tight lid on his emotions and reactions.'

Coulson sighed and Clint crossed his arms. When it became clear that Grant would not talk, Coulson leaned his elbows on to the tabletop and interlaced his fingers. "I'm more interested in your off-the-chart hand-eye coordination," he admitted," It's what initially caught Clint's attention anyways. You're a natural with a fun, Grant, even more with a sniper rifle." Coulson's head nodded towards Barton," Clint here had a very important question for you, but then you went and decided your family home made for a very nice bonfire."

"Do you understand our dilemma?"

Grant's eyes flickered to Barton. A question? What business did these mysterious men want with him? Grant knew he was good with guns, his training was the only thing he loves about military camp, but he didn't think anyone noticed. Why would they, when he was only known for picking fights and constant acts of insubordination?

Coulson was still talking, he realizes and he turned his attention back just in time to hear him say,"- called me in; thought I could do a better job than him."

Barton scoffed," That's not what I said. I only said you're more patient than I am, for an old man."

"This 'old man' could still kick your ass."

"I'd love to see you try, Grandpa Coulson."

The way they bickered back and forth was odd and foreign to Grant. They insulted each other, disagrees with each other, yet there was no hint of malice in their words. Did they not realize they were insulting each other, with grounds to start a fight or at the least had each other? Why did their bickering sound...affectionate? Friendly?

Barton has another retort for Coulson, but was ignored. The older man glanced back at Grant; he must've noticed his discomfort and that only raised more questions. "I'm curious..." He asked quietly," Did you know your brother was in the house?"

Finally, a reaction from Grant, but the wrong reaction, in Barton's eyes. The young man stiffened in his seat, all of his muscles tense as he leaned forward. But he dark look in his eyes betrayed his words," No, sir. I did not." It was no more than a recording, and answer rehearsed over and over again until it slipped out automatically.

That's when Barton jumped. Slamming one hand on the table, he leaned forward enough to grab a fistful of Grant Ward's shirt. He didn't pull, he didn't yank, but the grip he had on the cotton fabric was powerful. For a moment Grant wondered if Barton was going to punch him in the face.

"Agent Barton!" Coulson commanded forcefully," Stand down."

A tense miner passed, in which Grant wondered why the guards weren't DOING anything, before Barton released him. He sat back in his seat, a scowl still in his face. Grant scowled right back. "What have I told you?" Coulson was frowning at his associate," Get your facts straight before you make assumptions." Clint's grey eyes flickered over to him yet he said nothing in retaliation.

Coulson sighed, but turned back to Grant," You got a phone call the day before you left." It was a statement, not a question, and Grant tried not to react. How did he know that? NO ONE knew about that call.

"You found out your little brother and sister were in the hospital."

A very pronounced tic appeared in Grant's jaw.

Just one last push. "And you know exactly who our them there, didn't you?"

BAM! Grant's fiat slammed down on to the table, but neither man twitched. In fact, both of them seemed...sympathetic, Barton more so. A beat passed, then Coulson glanced at Clint," That enough fact for you?"

He nodded. "So ask," Coulson told him.

"Ask WHAT?" Grant nearly shouted, his patience was at its limit. They kept mentioning some question, and then this old man knew things he shouldn't know. He kept pushing all the right buttons, bringing up his little siblings. He didn't know how much more he could take before he snapped.

Barton looked at Grant long and hard before speaking lowly," You only have one chance to answer, then that's it. No more chances."

"Your family's on their way here right now, but my partner's stalling them for a short time. Not only are your folks pressing charges for arson and attempted murder, but your brother's petitioning the court to have you tried as an adult."

Grant gulped. This wasn't good...

"But," Clint added," We're willing to give you a second chance, to start over and actually do some good. So here's my question: would you be willing to join SHIELD?"

"Join...what?"

"We're a part of a secret government organization," Coulson explained," for the protection of mankind. And we could use someone like you on our team." Grant was dubious. A secret government organization? That sounded like a load of bullshit, was he supposed to believe they were CIA or something? "Why should I trust you?"

Coulson shook his head. " You have no reason to, yet. But give us a chance and we'll show you what we do."

Still, Grant stared at them with doubt and wariness. "Grant?" Coulson pressed, but before he could continue, Barton blurted out," We'll get your brother and sister out."

Grant's eyes widened and he gasped out," What?" the same time that Coulson gaped at his colleague," What?" Barton bit the inside of his cheek but didn't take back what he said.

"Join SHIELD," he told Grant," Let us train you to be an agent, you could be one of the best someday...and in turn, I'll make sure your brother and sister go somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from your folks, from your older brother."

Both Grant and Coulson stared at Clint. Grant was the first to speak,"...You can do that?"

Barton nodded. "I'll personally go get them myself."

"Then...yes!" For the first time that he could remember, there was a smile on Grant's face. It was also the first time he got to see a smile in Clint Barton's face, the first of thousands. The smiling agent stood up and wakes around the table, where he uncuffed their newest recruit and the handcuffs were thrown on the table.

"What?" he blinked. Just like that? He glanced towards the guard standing by the door, expecting to see him running to them or calling for back up or something. But the dark skinned man was just gazing straight at Grant, at an uncuffed juvenile offender, and was smiling. Catching Grant's eye, he nodded in encouragement.

"But the guards..." He turned back to Coulson only to see him bending over to pick up a backpack that before had gone unnoticed. Coulson plopped it onto the table, followed by a small black box. He smiled at Grant," We were hoping you'd say yes."

"Thanks, Paul," he then waved at the guard, who waved back.

...

Coulson, bless his heart, started planning this the moment Clint called him. While Grant was still a convict, Coulson explained that that didn't necessarily mean he had to serve his time in prison. And that's when he learned that Phil Coulson wasn't just a secret agent, was a very high level secret a her. A level 8, that's what he called himself. Barton was a level 5.

"Does that make me a level 1?" Grant asked, after changing into the new clothes provided to him. They were a bit tight in the chest, but he didn't mind; he knew he was bigger than most 17 year old boys. As soon as he reached up to tug on the collar, Barton slapped a silver bracelet on his wrist.

Grant just...reacted. His other arm came out in a crosscut, aiming for Clint's face. It was just the feeling of cold metal on his skin, so reminiscent of handcuffs, and it took Grant completely by surprise. Luckily, Barton had better reflexes than Grant. "Whoa!" his eyes widened momentarily as he caught -rather effortlessly- his flying fist. But then he grinned," I like your reflexes."

"And no, you're more like level negative 3," he remarked, tapping gently on the bracelet," Think of this like your nanny. It tracks your every movement and whereabouts. Just listen to Warden Coulson, and when your five years are up, you get it off. Then you're level negative 2."

"Then you go to SHIELD academy and your level negative 1," Clint grinned," Then you graduate and THEN you're level 1."

"So," Grant hummed thoughtfully," Five years? That doesn't sound so bad."

"Wait til you reach the Operations Academy," Clint warned him and clapped him on the back, following Coulson down the hall," You'll be missing these years with Warden Coulson."

"I told you to stop calling me that," Coulson called over his shoulder," YOU'RE the one who keeps bringing me recruits to-" He halted and pressed a hand to his ear," What?"

Beside Grant, Barton tensed up. "Sir, what is it?" he began, but Coulson cut him off," They got past Romanoff."

Barton swore in a language Grant did not know, but it sounded vaguely like Russian. And then Grant realized what was going on.

"My family..." he gasped, his face growing pale.

Barton's had tightened on his shoulder. "Your EX- family," he declared," Just keep that in mind; you're one of us now." It helped, a little, but still Grant felt the dread crash into him at the new thought of facing his family. What would they do when they heard Coulson and Barton wanted to take him away from this prison? His brother would be furious, and might even get violent. But it was his parents that worried him the most. As Grant's legal guardians, they still had control over his life. What if they wouldn't let these men recruit him? His eyes widened- what if Barton couldn't get his little brother and sister away?

"-all of them?" He heard Coulson talking to whoever was on the other end of the comm in his ear," That's good. Just in case, I want a security detail at Jordan Hospital." A wave of relief swept over Grant upon hearing the name of the hospital his siblings were at. "No one gets near those kids, do you hear?" Coulson was all business again as he resumed waking, waking a bit quicker than before," We'll finish up here then Barton and Romanoff will go in for extraction." There was not a hint of doubt or hesitation in his voice and for that, Grant was eternally grateful.

...

There was a lot of paperwork and 'red tape' involved with transferring custody of one Grant Ward over to SHIELD. They made it five minutes and what felt like a hundred signatures later before to doors burst open with a bang. Grant nearly jumped out of his new boots, the pen in his hand making a jagged line on the paper. He glanced up and felt his blood run cold.

The one to slam open the doors had been his big brother and he was FURIOUS. At 20, Maynard was significantly bigger and stronger than Grant and his size alone often gave him authority over most people. But right now, he wasn't commanding too much respect and fear at the moment. His left wrist was still bandaged from breaking the window to get out of the burning house and his leg had been mildly burned. And now Maynard seemed to be sporting a new shiny black eye and what looked like the remnants of a recently broken nose.

Grant overheard Coulson whisper," Romanoff broke his nose?" Grant decided he really likes this Romanoff guy.

Trailing behind Maynard, Mr. and Mrs. Ward finally entered. Mr. Ward, Grant's father, was just as furious as his eldest son and his face was nearly red in the face. Where Maynard was a violent type of anger, their father tended to be a vocal type of anger. "What is the meaning of this?" he roared, his dark eyes zeroing in on Grant.

Behind him, the timid Mrs. Ward meekly followed her husband and son. Her baby blue eyes glanced at her middle son, locked briefly with his own, but then she went back to staring at the floor. She shuffled her feet, standing by the doorway while her husband and Maynard stomped towards the trio.

Years of conditioning and self will was the ONLY reason why Grant didn't cower when the two large men neared him, no matter how much his self preservation instincts demanded it. He fully expected to feel a fist collide with his jaw, it was a completely normal occurrence by now.

But Maynard never got that far. Quicker than Grant could blink, Barton's arm reached out and twisted Maynard's right arm in an unnatural way. He yelped in surprise, caught off guard by the interference, then Barton pushed him back and away. "I'd lay off the fighting for a while if I were you," Coulson chirped, a hint of a smile playing on his face," You're still recovering and in no condition to win." Maynard growled but a sharp look from his father silenced any words he might have said.

"He," Mr. Ward gestured to Grant," is a criminal and a felon." He glared at Coulson and Barton," Why isn't he in cuffs in his cell? Are you trying to take him out of here?!" His eyes nearly bulged out when he finally realized that Grant was wearing normal clothes.

The two agents exchanged glances, Barton discreetly whispering for Grant to "keep signing," before confronting the father. "He's now under our custody. We'll be taking him with us."

"The hell you are!" was the response he got and a very nasty glower. Barton didn't flinch under the heavy gaze, even as Mr. Ward continued to bellow," Guards! This convict is trying to escape." He yelled for the nearby guards, one of which had been helping Grant with the paperwork and the other was Paul. They ignored the irate man, even when he pointed at the two SHIELD agents. "Are you just going to let these two men walk out with a dangerous criminal?!"

"Yes, they are," Coulson retorted, then holding up a piece of paper Grant signed not three minutes ago. "This right here," he pointed to a certain line," This says he will be serving the rest of his term under the watchful eye of our organization."

Grant's father scoffed. "He needs to be locked up, not coddled by someone by the likes of you. Do you REALIZE what he's done?"

"Yes," Coulson nodded," We do." He said it with such a tone that it sounded like he couldn't care less what Grant had done against his older brother. He really couldn't.

"We're still taking him with us."

"I won't allow it," Mr. Ward nearly shouted, enraged by the cool dismissal he received from the agent," I'm still the boy's legal guardian and you can't do anything without my permission. And I say you get the hell away from him and leave town!" This was the moment Grant feared, the very reason why he's never been able to get away before. Because Grant was still a minor; his father had complete control of his life.

He glanced fearfully at Coulson, expecting to see a look of defeat on the older man's face. But when he looked, Coulson was...smirking. "No," he said," You're not. And you have your oldest son to thank for that." A look of pure disbelief crossed Mr. Ward's face and he turned his gaze to Maynard.

"You petitioned the court to have Grant tried as an adult," Coulson continued, speaking to the young man," Congratulation, it worked. Grant Ward is hereby seen as an adult in the state court's eyes. And according to this," he held up another paper Grant signed," all decisions regarding him and his prison sentence go through the Massachusetts State Petitionary Board. Not you."

"And THIS," he grabbed the pepper right out from under Grant's pen,"delegates all responsibility over. To. Me." He punctuated the last three words with extreme glee, everyone present thoroughly enjoying the look of disbelief and shock on Mr. Ward's face.

"Now if you'll excuse us, we has a plane to catch," Barton finished smugly and placing a reassuring hand on Grant's shoulder, steered him out of there. Behind them, Coulson was having a few last second words with Grant's father and brother, something along the lines of what would happen to them if they tried to come after Grant ever again. Yet as Grant and Barton passed his mother on the way out, she just watched them go.

She locked eyes with her son, the first time in years she had had the courage to do so. 'Ill probably never see her again," Grant thought and for some reason he could not fathom, he felt not one twinge of sadness. Intellectually, he knew this was his mother, but emotionally...she was nothing more than some stranger, a shadow that always watched but never interfered. Years later, he would finally realize that she was just as scared as him, scared of his father the way he was afraid of his brother. But he never forgave her, and he didn't think he ever could. Because at this moment, she just stared at Grant, not speaking or even trying to say goodbye... Just stared at him with that dead look in her eyes, as she couldn't care less what happened to her son.

'Good riddance,' was Grant's last thought of his family before the doors shut behind him.

...

"Oh, by the way," Coulson turned around for one last glance before he followed his newest protege out the door," We're taking your two other children too."

As he walked out the door, Coulson smiled to himself when he heard Maynard try to attack only to be physically restrained by Paul.

...

Outside, there was a line of cars waiting for them. At the front sat a shines up red convertible. Behind it were two black SUV's, thought one looked like it recently had a fender bender: the front bumper was barely hanging off of it, scraping the ground. Grant had to do a double take when he next saw his father's Buick with a good sized dent in the back and the read bumper was missing

A beautiful woman with red hair stood by the damages SUV. She was inspecting the damages Buick with a satisfied smile. "That was fun," she said upon their approach," A good way to blow off steam."

Barton chuckled and pecked her on the cheek," That's my girl," forcing Grant to do another double take. Did he just- Were they? He turned to Coulson for clarification but he too was addressing the woman. "Did you have to break his nose?"

She scoffed. "He came at me first. He's lucky to be alive if you ask me."

Then it all clicked for Grant. "Wait! YOU broke Maynard's face?" he gaped at the rather unassuming woman, then," YOU'RE Romanoff?!" But she's so...tiny.

A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose," And YOU are Grant Ward." At her icy tone, he bit his tongue and decided that he'd never ever ever admit that he thought Romanoff was a guy... "You two happy now?" She addressed Barton," I flew you all the way out to Massachusetts, crashes a perfectly good car, and had to deal with a bad mouth punk all because you wanted to bring home another stray." She looked him over," He's gonna be bigger than you, Clint. Sure you can handle not being the go to big tough guy anymore?"

"Play nice, Natasha," Coulson gently chided," and say hello to your new baby brother." Grant whipped his head back around so fast he almost got whiplash. He wasn't sure if he was more surprised at being called brother or angry at being called baby.

He settled for confused. "Baby brother?"

Natasha Romanoff smiled wryly at him," Welcome to the family, Baby Bro."

...


	2. Pilot part 1

_The secret is out._

_For decades, your organization stayed in the shadows, hiding the truth. But now we know…they're among us: Heroes…and monsters._

_The world is full of wonders._

_We can't explain everything we see, but our eyes are open. So what now? There are no more shadows for you to hid in. Something impossible just happened. What are you going to do about it?_

* * *

Agent Hill's Field Office

Location: Classified

"You can't be serious, Coulson," Maria Hill tried not to scowl at the level 8 agent, she really did. But if her face was showing a disparaging look, it was only because Coulson was an insufferable bastard. "There's a reason we haven't told anyone you're alive," she continued," If you're going to form a team, you-"

"-want the best to be on it," he finished for her," I need a black ops specialist and I'd prefer I know and trust them."

"Besides, I hear he made clearance level 6 a couple months ago," he smiled, immensely proud at how far his protégé has come," It wouldn't be that far a jump to level 7."

"Damnit, Coulson!" Hill snapped," Why can't you just pick Barton or Romanov? They've always been more emotionally stable than him; the man compromised a level 6 mission when he heard you died. We had to put him out of commission for a month."

_'And yet you put him back under deep cover the first chance you got,'_ as Coulson understood, quite bitterly in fact. He wasn't about to tell Hill this, but that was the largest reason why he wanted his youngest protégé back on his team. Nearly fifteen years later, seven of those as a specialist, and Grant Ward was no closer to being emotionally stable. Coulson remembered how well the boy had been doing in those first five years, but once he went off to the Academy and got a new S.O… well, things changed. Now, he needed to be back on a small, tight-knit team with people he trusted. Not out in the field, undercover and alone.

But Maria Hill liked logic, not sentimentality. "Romanov doesn't play well with others," he said instead," And you know I can't recruit Barton without her tagging along. That'd just be one specialist too many." He gazed at her with an innocent expression, but she knew better. Everyone knew how protective Coulson's team was of their youngest member, and that sort of closeness sometimes worried the higher ups. But everyone also knew that Natasha Romanov had been threatening the level 8's if they didn't pull Ward out of black ops soon. '_'He needs to come back home,''_ she had said,_'' With his family.''_

"Are you sure you can't choose someone else?" she asked again, just to make sure.

Coulson shrugged innocently. "Maybe I'll take a nice short vacation in Paris, I hear it's lovely around this time of year." She scowled deeply," Damnit, Coulson!"

….

Operation Wrap Up

Location: Paris, France

"Agent Ward," Agent David's voice crackled over the comm in Ward's ear, though he could barely hear it over the roar of his motorcycle," There's been a development; it's the Rising Tide."

_'The Rising Tide,'_ just the thought of the group left a bad taste in his mouth. Damn hackers, didn't they have anything better to do than mess with his ops?

"They pinned out the location of the package. You need to abort."

Evidently not. "I'm five minutes away from retrieving it," he snapped back. He just spent two weeks undercover, working to infiltrate the Parisian black market. Like hell he was going to back down after the Rising Tide interfered. Again…

"So is everyone else," David was saying just as Ward was nearing his target" They posted the coordinates _online_." For the whole damn world to see.

Ooh, a challenge? Ward liked challenges. "Well, if the job was easy-"

"Yeah, 'it wouldn't be any fun'," David finished sourly," Watch your six."

_'Nat's going to kill me if I get shot again,'_ Ward mused before taking his helmet off. Then he grinned,_' Showtime.'_

* * *

Agent Hill's Field Office

Location: Classified

Hill was frowning at him. Why was Agent Hill frowning at him? No, wait…she was scowling. She was definitely scowling at him. Inside, Ward was frowning back at her, but outside he showed no emotion. If she wanted to be angry at him that's her problem. He didn't care.

"What does SHIELD stand for, Agent Ward?" she asked him.

_'What a dumb question'_ he thought before answering," Strategic Homeland, Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

"And what does that mean to you?"

Ward smirked lightly, remembering the first time he asked what SHIELD stood for. "It means someone really wanted our initials to spell out SHIELD," he gave her the same answer he got fifteen years ago. His crooked smile only grew when Hill's scowl deepened. Barton and Coulson would be proud of his snark, he thought briefly before the smile slid right off his face when he remembered that Clint hadn't been the same since New York and Coulson was…

"It means we're the line," he amended; remembering how important SHIELD had been to Coulson and how he had tried to instill that same sense of justice in Ward," between the world…and the much weirder world."

"We protect people from things they aren't ready to hear." The same way Coulson protected him from the world when he rescued him from juvie, until he could go to the Academy and learn how to be a real SHIELD agent.

"And when we can't do that, we keep them safe." The same way Coulson died trying to protect the world from Loki. The same way Barton and Romanov fought an alien invasion.

Agent Hill shifted in her seat, approving Ward's amended answer. "Something turns up," he reached into his pocket and took out a tiny piece of silver and blue metal," like this Chitauri neurolink…" He slid it across the table to her," We get to it before someone bad does."

The neurolink appeared harmless enough, but now they knew better. So it would soon be put away, at the Fridge, where it would sit forever. "Any idea who Lunchatt was planning to sell it to?" Hill asked as she handed it over to a waiting level 4 agent.

"I'm more interested in how this Rising Tide group found out about it," Ward demanded," I thought they were just hackers." So then how the hell did they find out top secret details he only discovered after weeks of deep cover? That was a _covert_ op. Only a few within SHIELD even knew about it. "What changed?" Were they a group of spies now? They were troublesome enough before, what if they became more of a threat?

"Everything's changed," Hill sighed and began pacing the room. Obviously this frustrated her just as much as it did him. "A little while ago, everyone went to bed thinking that the craziest thing in the world was a billionaire in a flying metal suit."

_'Stark's still fucking crazy,'_ Ward mused, remembering the few times he's met the eccentric man. But, he got along spectacularly with Clint, so Ward figured he'd have to just put up with him. As long as no one told the man what Ward's code name was…

"Then aliens invaded New York," Hill continued," and we're being backed by, among others, a giant green monster-" _'And yet it's funny how Banner is usually the voice of reason among the Avengers.'_

"-a costumed hero from the 40's-" Coulson's boyhood hero, and by default, Ward's as well.

"-and a god."

Ward raised an eyebrow. "I don't think Thor's technically a god," he tried to point out, but she cut him off," Well you haven't been near his arms."

He blinked; Maria Hill's a fangirl? Then he deadpanned; of course she is. _Every_ girl is.

"The Battle of New York," she cut off his thoughts," was the end of the world." And wasn't that the truth of it? It was more than just an alien invasion; it was the end of Grant Ward's world. The day his family fell apart. "This. Now," she said," is the new world." '_The new world sucks,'_ he thought, but showed nothing on his face. "People are different. They have access to tech, to formulas, secrets they're not ready for."

Ward sat forward in his seat and stared at her with barely contained annoyance. He _knew_ this! The world had gotten so much more dangerous, and that's why he'd been working so hard to protect this stupid 'new world'. He was busy hunting down alien tech before it could get into the wrong hands. So what was her reason for lecturing him instead of letting him do his damn job. "Why was I pulled out of Paris?" he demanded.

A moment passed, in which Hill's eyes averted to the floor for just a second, as if unable to face him. But her eyes returned to his, thought her body language betrayed her. She crossed her arms in front of her (a sign of defense, Ward recognized) and took a step back. "That…you'll have to ask Coulson," she answered.

Oh, _that_ was a low blow! Ward bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from going off at the Deputy Director. How dare she speak to him about Phil Coulson? Telling him to ask his dead mentor and guardian?

"Agent Coulson died before the Battle of New York," he hissed out through clenched teeth," Killed by Loki himself." Ward would forever remember that moment when he got the phone call from Natasha. He had been on a mission in Columbia, away from any type of television and had no idea what had happened in New York. She used what was supposed to be a secure SHIELD radio channel, and he distinctly remembered scolding her for almost blowing his cover before she blurted it out.

_"Coulson's dead,"_ her voice drifted over the radio and he fell utterly silent. After that, he wasn't entirely sure what happened, it was all a blur. Next time he was really aware, he had abandoned his mission in Columbia and somehow ended up in the team's safehouse in Oregon. Natasha and Clint had already been there, where Natasha was slowly trying to pick up the pieces that once was her lover. Needless to say, Ward had been in a world of trouble for that stunt…

"I'm clearance level 6," he finished, still seething at Hill's audicity," I read the report myself."

And then a shadow detached itself from a dark corner of Maria Hill's office. He took four steps, emerging into the light and standing next to Hill. "Welcome to level 7," Agent Phil Coulson said, in all his dark grey suited glory, a smile playing on his lips.

Ward froze and he swore his heart skipped a beat. Or three.

Coulson grinned," Sorry, that corner was really dark and I couldn't help myself." It was _such_ a Coulson joke, and only he could make a joke at a time like this. Ward always remembered his mentor's weird sense of humor and dry jokes, but _really_?!

"I think there's a bulb out," Coulson continued to grin like he just pulled off the single greatest prank in history.

_'_Not_ a funny prank!'_ Ward nearly screamed and if he wasn't so happy to see him, he just might strangle the man.

* * *

As Ward listened to what happened to Coulson after New York, he barely kept the grin off his face. A grass shack in Tahiti? Yup, that sounded like Coulson's style. "Well something put you back in the game," he guessed, speaking out loud as they entered Mission Control. He glanced up, seeing a video playing on the big screen, a familiar red logo in the bottom right corner. "What is that?" he asked as he watched a hooded man jump five stories carrying a woman and remain unharmed.

"That's a superhero, Agent Ward," Coulson told him.

"An unregistered Gifted," Hill corrected," Identity unknown."

_"The secret is out,"_ a young female voice suddenly spoke over the computers. Just then, all the screens began to blow up with videos of the same nature and branded with the same red logo. Her voice carried across the speakers, sounding like an ominous message, a warning,_" For decades, your organization-"_ The videos and sounds began to overlap, merging into a cacophony of noise.

Coulson frowned," Another little present from the Rising Tide." The fucking Rising Tide, Ward clenched his teeth as he watched. These were top secret videos, footage of SHIELD missions, of phenomena that was supposed to be under wraps.

"How are they getting this stuff before us?" he asked.

"Same way they cracked our RSA implementation," Coulson answered and Ward didn't miss the way Hill's head shot up. Oops, did she not know that? Coulson smiled," They're good…So I need better."

Hill sighed and decided it was finally time to tell him. "Agent Coulson has requisitioned a Mobile Command Unit to which you are assigned." He raised an eyebrow; was she serious?

Before he could ask, Coulson spoke up," The Rising Tide is trying to draw us out. I think it's time they succeeded."

Okay, now he was confused. Ward glanced between Coulson and Hill. A team? But he's a specialist, he doesn't do teams; that's how it's been since started Operations Academy. "Do you want me to cross them off?" he asked hesitantly, but why else would they need him?

Coulson gave him a WTF look. "What? No." He glanced at Hill with a face that clearly said,'_ What the hell have you done to my boy?',_ then said," I want to use them, to get to him," he gestured to the unregistered Gifted. "This man's world is about to get very weird. He's gonna need some help."

"A welcoming committee?" Ward gave him a dubious look. Did Coulson forget that he doesn't do well with others? Dear God, he made _Natasha_ look like a freaking social butterfly! "Sir, you know I've been trained from day one as a Specialist. I go in, _alone_, and I get the job done. Defusing a nuclear bomb? I'm your guy. But _this_?"

Yet Coulson just shrugged and opened the file in his hands," I know it's been seven years since I was your mentor, since you graduated Ops, so I had Agent Hill do an assessment of your last three missions."

_'Oh shit,'_ was all Ward could think.

"Combat: top grades-" To be fair, he was teammates with a couple of Avengers. "Espionage: she gave you the highest marks since Romanov-" Ward grinned; Natasha would be so proud.

"Under people skills she drew a…" Coulson faltered," I think it's a… little poop." _'What?!'_ "With knives sticking out of it." Ward walked around to get a look at the drawing himself," What?" If his voice cracked a little bit, it was only because it really _was_ a fucking little poop with knives sticking out of it. Hell, Hill's drawing skills _sucked_!

Coulson tried not to grin," That's bad, right?" What he thought but did say was,' _With his family history, I'm surprised it's not worse.'_ But he knew Grant, and that's why he didn't mention it. Grant was incredibly antisocial and hostile to new people, something Coulson wanted to help him fix.

"But," he closed the file," I really need a Specialist on this team and I think you're the man for the job." Ward huffed.

Just then, one of SHIELD's top doctors entered the room. "Team's all approved," he announced, waving some files," Physicals are all fine. Fitzsimmons is…_not_ cleared for combat; I'm told that won't be an issue." He gazed at Ward," Agent Ward here. He's almost too fit."

Ward perked up at the mention of his own name," That's an issue. That should be an issue. Maybe I can't join the team because-"

"Go," Hill interrupted him without even looking up from the files," You are dismissed."

…Damn. He pursed his lips but didn't dare speak another word. Instead he just left, before he really did strangle someone.

* * *

_How will you come at us? From the air? From the ground?_

_How will you silence us this time? How can you?_

_The truth is in the wind, it's everywhere._

_You can not stop the Rising Tide._

* * *

Ward's first thought when he saw the Bus: '_I want one.'_ His second thought? _'How the hell did Coulson get this?'_ The thing was massive! At first, he thought it was a C-5 Galaxy, based on its sheer size, but then he saw the cargo ramp open in the back, not in the front. A modified C-17 Globemaster? Yet its size and four fuselages on the wings was where the similarities between aircrafts. This…this "Bus" had rear tail wings, an extended tail, and two extra large fuselages on either side right in front of the tail wings.

And Ward was going to live on it with complete strangers for the foreseeable future. _'Fan-fucking-tastic,'_ he thought sourly before making his way onto it. The first thing he noticed: it's a double decker. Then he saw the two _kids_ unloading their luggage.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Watch it!" the boy, a Scotsman judging by his accent, rushed forward to take something out of the girl's hands," That's the Night Night gun!" He cradled it to his chest like a baby.

The girl sighed and continued picking up her own things. "Well, it was on my stuff," she retorted in a British accent," and it doesn't work and there's no way we're calling it the 'Night Night' gun."

The Scot seemed actually offended. "The bullets _work_," he followed after her, still hugging these…Night Night guns," Non-lethal, heavy stopping power, break up under the subcoterious texture."

"With a dose of only 0.1 microlites of dendrotoxin? I'm not Hermoine, I can't create instant paralysis with that." Then the two of them launched into an entire tirade about science and chemistry and everything Ward did not know. The two bickered back and forth over the lab table, spouting off words he had no comprehension of and all he could think was,' _Since when did SHIELD recruit teenagers?'_ Albeit, genius teenagers judged by their science jargon, but kids nonetheless.

Finally he couldn't stand it anymore and decided to drop his heavy duffle bag with a loud THUD, which caused the two kids to stop and stare at him. "Fitzsimmons?" he asked, wondering which one of them was his new teammate. He really hoped neither of them was the one he was looking for and they'd just point him in the direction of the real Fitzsimmons.

Alas, Ward never gets what he wants. The girl pointed to the boy," Fitz."

He pointed back at her," Simmons. I'm Engineering, she's Bio-chem."

Ward deadpanned. Fitzsimmons was _two_ people? Two kids at that. And who the hell tagged two separate people with one name? Were they joined at the hip or something? Great, just…great.

"Agent Ward?" Fitz questioned, obviously he had been briefed on his new teammates as well.

Ward sighed and simply reached into his pocket," Agent Coulson said I'd need my comm receiver encoded." He handed the brand new receiver to the Scot, a little unhappy at having to part with it so soon. It had been a reward for completing his France mission so successfully. He was more than a little proud to have received the newest model, right off the line.

Fitz walked away with it and set it on his desk. "I don't know if you've worked with that model before," Ward started," It's-'

Then Fitz hit it with a hammer. Over and over and over again until it resembled nothing more than a pile of junk. Clenching his jaw and trying really hard not to hit someone, Ward finished bitterly," -brand new."

Simmons and Fitz really didn't care. "He'll reperks the IDIS chip," the girl (she was Simmons, right?) noted. "Don't need the external receiver for the in-ear comms anymore," her partner added, pulling out just the chip from inside the now demolished comm receiver. '_Really?'_ Ward thought doubtfully," Well, then how does it-"

Then that girl, Simmons or Hermoine or whatever her name was, was prying his jaw open and stuck a cotton tip swab in his mouth! "We'll embed a neurosensor that's a match to your DNA," she was saying, but that didn't stop him from glaring at her as she finished her damn DNA swab. She could've just _asked_, damnit! "It's very posh," she smiled and stepped away.

Ward decided he didn't very much like British science nerds.

She obviously didn't pick up on his 'I don't like you' vibes. "So, you excited to be going on our journey into mystery?"

His face was particularly blank as he looked down on her -she was ridiculously short next to him-," Like Christmas." Did he mention that he hates Christmas? But that was a story for another time.

Luckily Ward was saved from having to deal with the science babies any longer when a car pulled up. He turned around to see a familiar red car pull up alongside the black SHIELD SUV. Lola; she was still running? He thought Coulson got rid of that car _years_ ago, after Clint crashed it into a dumpster. He only knew about it because Clint called him in a panic, saying he needed help hiding from Coulson. Ward laughed, but sent his foster brother a one way ticket train ticket to Winnepeg, Manitoba in lower Canada.

"One of Coulson's old SHIELD collectibles," he heard the Scot mutter some stuff behind him, but Ward was having too much fun watching Coulson step out and promptly tell a flight crew member," Don't touch Lola."

_Rules on the Bus:_

_Rule Number One: **Never** touch Lola._

Ward knew this rule like the back of his hand -it was _strictly_ enforced even before Clint crashed it- but obviously these science babies would need to learn. "And he calls it a girl's name," the Scot was one comment away from laughing, as if calling a car by a girl's name was the funniest thing in the world. Then he spanked Ward's ass! Alright, it was a tap and meant in good gesture, but still, it was invading Ward's personal bubble! He was _so_ lucky he walked away before Ward could turn around and deck him in the face.

_'This mission is going to be hell,'_ he thought sourly, and it was only day one…

Before Ward did anything against protocol, such as strangling the two science babies, his long legs carried him over to Coulson," Sir, are you _serious_?" He cocked his head back at the two doing who-knows-what in the SHIELD mobile lab.

_Rule Number Two: Don't strangle your team members._

"I'm dead serious," was Coulson's answer, earning a frown from his protégé. Considering he just heard about Coulson's survival yesterday, it was _too_ soon to crack dead jokes. Seeing the deadpan look on Ward's face -hah! See that pun there? Phil always knew he was born to be a comedian- Coulson shrugged and headed towards the upper level, knowing Ward would follow.

As they walked through the rather posh lounge -Ward cringed at the use of the British term-, Coulson started talking to fill the silence," This is Mobile Command. They used to be heavy rotation back in the 90's, but then we got a helicarrier."

"Hey, did you hear the one about the guy who's afraid of flying?" he suddenly asked, smiling like he was telling a joke.

_'Why would you recruit a guy who's afraid of flying to be on a Mobile Command Unit?'_ Ward pondered, then wondered if maybe Coulson was checking to see if he had an aversion to heights still. Thirteen years ago he did, after Natasha thought it was funny to push him out of a plane at 20,000 feet. Operations Academy knocked that fear out of him, but perhaps Coulson didn't know that. "I've done a nightdrop into a zone under heavy fire, sir," he informed him matter of factly," I can handle it."

Coulson sighed," That was a…joke. The first part of a-" he broke off with an even bigger sigh, looking utterly dejected," I'm not gonna tell it anymore."

What, did he say something wrong? Ward opened his mouth to ask -he _really_ didn't know it had been a joke- but was cut off by a female voice. "If you plan to unpack, do it quick," Agent Melinda May walked up, all decked out in a what looked like a leather cat suit and Ward's first thought was,' _Wow, she looks amazing for her age.'_ But she was busy talking to Coulson," And we got a hit on one of the Rising Tides' routing points." A file exchanged hands, which Coulson thanked her for, and with that she was gone.

The whole time, Ward was glancing between the two, not quite believing what he was seeing. "Was that…" he gestured to the departed woman," …who I think it was?" In other words, Agent Melinda freaking May? Better known as the Cavalry?

"She's just the pilot."

Bullshit. " 'Melinda May is…just the pilot'?" he echoed back, his sarcastic side showing," Come on sir… what game are you really playing?" If Coulson really managed to get the Cavalry onboard this idiotic welcoming team, then why did he need him? As a specialist, Grant is _nothing_ compared to her. There had to be an ulterior motive.

But Coulson wasn't budging. With a blank face he often used against Natasha and Clint, he snapped the file in his hands shut," Better stow your gear," and walked away.

_'I hate this already,'_ Ward groused and reluctantly opened his stupid bunk and threw his duffle bag in.


	3. Pilot part 2

Ward was man enough to admit it: she was pretty. Alright, so she was beautiful but it would be a million years before he ever admitted it out loud. She was also a giant pain in the ass, with her stupid blue van (Coulson made him drive it back to the Bus) and the fact that she was Rising Tide. Speaking of which, weren't hackers supposed to be overweight nerds living in their parent's basement? Not some pretty girl living in a van behind a cutesy neighborhood café.

The glare she gave him when he whipped the black bag off her head suggested she didn't like him as much as he didn't like her.

"You guys are making a big mistake," she threatened, looking up at them from the chair he pushed her into. Ward had to give her credit, she was holding it together pretty well considering she was just taken by two unknown men. But then again, who knows what the Rising Tide had been getting into recently; they've certainly had some fun messing with SHIELD.

"You don't look that big," he taunted, much to her ire.

"Sorry for the lack of finesse," Coulson apologized on his behalf, glancing between him and the Rising Tide chick," Agent Ward here has had a little history with your group, the Rising Tide." '_Seriously, Phil?'_ Ward bit his tongue from making a snappy comment. There's no reason for niceties. She's a criminal and he doesn't have to apologize for treating her like one.

Especially when she tries to deny it. "I don't know what that-"

"Alright, there are two ways we can do this," he cut her off; he really didn't need to hear talk bullshit and he's had a bad day and needed some way to relieve his stress. She'd be a good punching bag…

"Oh," she smiled at him with an impossible amount of snark and white teeth," is one of them going to be the 'easy way'?" Does this girl take _anything_ serious?!

"No," he growled back and took too much pleasure watching her face fall," Oh…"

* * *

Coulson decided to step in, saving the girl from Ward's wrath," What's your name?" He kept his voice quiet, calm, and looking back on it, it was because he recognized her sarcasm for what it was. A defense. The girl was scared, he knew she must be, and having a porcupine Grant Ward stare her down was not working them any favors.

Her answer was immediate and it gave Coulson a faint hope that maybe she'd cooperate," Skye."

Then Ward had to open his mouth. "What's your _real_ name?" he demanded in his toughest black ops voice.

"That can wait," Coulson said quickly, noticing how her eyes shifted to Ward with the slightest bit of trepidation," There's another name we need." He needed to distract her, give her something else to think about other than the aggressive specialist in the room," A certain hero."

There was a long enough pause before Skye's response to tell him that she knew _exactly_ what he was talking about," What makes you think I know that?"

Not the greatest evasive liar, that's good. "Well, you made a little mistake," he smiled disarmingly at her and sat down," That phone you filmed the Hooded Hero with had the same cryptographic signature as the last three of the Rising Tide posts."

It was supposed to disarm her, to tell her that they already knew she was Rising Tide, that she was behind the hacks on SHIELD. Skye was the only Rising Tide member they've ever found in real life, and she wasn't in any position to bargain. And yet… "Wow, yeah," she smiled right back at him, her white teeth flashing like tiger who had just found her prey," Was that a mistake? Or am I now," she cocked her head at Ward, her dark eyes all teasing," sitting in the center of your 'secret headquarters'?" And that's when Coulson realized he just lost control of the interrogation. "What is this?" she glanced around, presumably to find a door or exit out of the Cage," Is this a plane?" Considering the plane wasn't in motion, that was fairly astute.

"I got inside," she finished," and by now I've discovered you can't beat the encryption on my equipment." Which raised two red flags: how the _hell_ did she know that? The only way she could've known that was because he only mentioned her Rising Tide connections, which led the second red flag: what did she have that was worse?

"So you got nothing."

"We have a fairly strong coincidence," Coulson shot back, opening the sadly thin file they had on her (in reality, it was only a couple pictures she'd posted online)," You being on the scene right before it went up in flames." He laid the picture of the explosion right in front of her; if she was involved with _worse_, then what are the odds she had something to do with that explosion? "Wanna tell me what my team is going to find there?"

"How did you know the hooded man was in the building?" he asked; after all, her phone had been recording the building _before_ the explosion happened and _before_ the Hooded Hero jumped out the window.

Ward crossed his arms and glared at her," Did you blow it up to draw him out?"

"Did _you_?" she shot back, seemingly very offended by Ward's accusation.

"That's not our style," Coulson told her, a part of him reassured that that wasn't her style either.

But, then again, she didn't exactly have the greatest first impression of them… "I was just _kidnapped_ by your 'style'," Skye practically spat at him and scoffed, her anger overriding her fear even as Ward crowded in on her right side," SHIELD covered up New Mexico," and how did she know they were SHIELD already? He never said that," Project Pegasus, of course you'd be covering up Centipede."

…Well, damn… Coulson's smile never faded, but he glanced at Ward, his eyes full of surprise. Ward was not as subtle, he took a step back to try to get out of Skye's line of sight, even went as far as pretending to scratch his ear. _'Centipede?'_ he mouthed to his mentor, and Coulson knew they were screwed.

And unfortunately, she saw Ward's tell. "Only, no way," she started laughing in disbelief," you don't know what that is." Well, wasn't this embarrassing…

Skye thought it was just plain sad," _Billions_ of dollars of equipment at your disposal and I beat you with a laptop that I won in a _bet_?!"

Coulson had been kidding when he once said the Rising Tide was good… but he never realized they were _this_ good. This is…he'd almost say unbelievable but given recent events he'd changed his definition of unbelievable. She was the definition of the 'better' that he was looking for. If she could do this, with a laptop and the Rising Tide…what could she do with SHIELD's resources? For the greater good?

That when he realized it: the hooded man wasn't her target… she was trying to protect him, from SHIELD…

"You need to think about your friend," he continued to talk, calm and sure, just as always," We're the only ones interested in people with powers… We'd like to contain him, yeah." He had to make her see that they honestly meant the hooded man no harm," But the next guys who want to exploit him? And the guy after that who'll want to dissect him?"

Finally, Ward could handle it no more. Leaning one hand on the table, he looked her in the eyes," What is Centipede?" If her target was Centipede, then maybe they both had the same goals.

* * *

"Centipede: it was shot around the world, and then it was just… gone." Grant watched from his chair as Skye paced the Cage back and forth, her hands moving in time with her words. He had uncuffed her a couple seconds ago, and she immediately stood up, not one to sit still for very long. "I traced the accept point mac address to that building," she told them, confirming Coulson's earlier belief: Centipede was her target. But why? She still hadn't told them what Centipede even was.

"What were you after?" he asked.

The look she gave him was highly judgmental. "The truth," she answered vaguely," What are _you_ after?"

" World peace," he shot back, unable to resist rising to her bait.

"You psuedo- anarchist, hacker types just love to stir things up," he stood up," but you're never around for the fall out." Did she _not_ realize all the damage she's done? He's almost _died_ three times because she kept posting information about his jobs on the freaking world web! "People keep secrets for a reason, _Skye_." Just like her name. He knew that wasn't her real name; she was keeping it a secret. Why, he didn't know. But why in the world did she think _she_ could keep secrets but no one else could?

Ward hadn't realized how close he was to her until he felt a finger prod into his chest and push. "Well, just because _you're_ reasonable," she went to push him away, then paused slightly and poked him again," and… firm-" he almost smirked at that one," -doesn't mean that you're not an evil, faceless government toolbag." Well, he could honestly say that's never happened to him before. A compliment from a beautiful woman followed by a vicious insult. Wait, did he just call her beautiful again? He's got to stop doing that.

Looking to the heavens, Ward tried really hard not to groan in frustration, or… something else. "Just give us your guys name," he asked, his desperation showing through. In all his time as a SHIELD agent, he's _never_ met a girl this stubbornly obnoxious and able to get under his skin this easily, this fast.

"He's _not_ my guy!" Grant honestly couldn't decide if he was happy about that or not…

"You do know he's in danger, right?" Coulson piped in.

_'But she thinks from us,'_ Ward meant to remind his mentor, but Skye beat him to it," Then let me go! Let _me_ talk to him! Me, not the-" she gestured to him," T-1000 here." _'What's a T-1000?'_ Ward wondered, then figured it wasn't anything good. But then he figured she probably had another angle other than just insulting him again," You want to be alone with him." To either turn him against them, or maybe she was lying when she said he wasn't her guy, or maybe… "Of course," he sighed, _'It's fucking obvious.'_

"She's a _groupie_," he told Coulson," All this hacking into SHIELD, tracking powers, she might as well be one of those sweaty cosplay girls crowding around Stark Tower."

"_What?!_" he heard her exclaim behind him, seemingly offended," I would…" she trailed off, and then her heard her mutter," It was one time…"

Ward stamped down _hard_ on the sudden image that came to mind of Skye wearing one of those little skimpy cosplay outfits. Luckily, Coulson distracted him by asking him to follow him outside, and thankfully away from the stubborn, annoying girl.

* * *

Outside in the hallways, Ward took deep breaths, trying to get his anger under control. At least, he was pretty sure it was anger. "Is it the girl?" he heard Coulson asking, still walking towards the lounge," She getting under your skin?" Grant couldn't quite tell, but he could've sworn Coulson was having too much of a laugh at his expense.

"Sir," he almost answered back, but stopped when he realized his voice sounded like a put-out child.

"Or is it the assignment?" Coulson continued," Are you so anxious to get out of this that you'd deliberately blow an interrogation?" Normally, such a question would've stopped Ward in his tracks: blow an interrogation? To get out of an assignment as Coulson's protégé once again? Normally, Ward would've felt like he had just been kicked in the ribs by Natasha but right now, all he could think about was _Skye_.

_'No, it's the girl,'_ was the only bitter thought going through his head,_' She's too fucking stubborn and defensive and pretty-I've _got_ to stop thinking that!'_ "Just give me a minute alone with her and you'll have your answers," he practically begged. If he could just interrogate her, the way he was trained to, and not have to worry about acting all nice in front of Coulson…

Phil Coulson must've known what he meant, for even he knew how specialist interrogations usually went. "She's an _asset_." He gave him that same look he gave him when he asked if he needed to cross off the Rising Tide...

"She is _such_ an ass-" he started to agree, then his words finally sank in," Wait, 'asset'?"

"We don't know anything about her," was the response, and Coulson held up her file, showing off once again how sadly thin it was," Do you appreciate how often that happens?"

_'Not a whole lot, I'm guessing?'_

"That _never_ happens."

So she's a ghost, big deal. So why was Coulson bringing out the box of-Wait a minute… "We need what she knows." The QNB-T16 looked just as harmless as it had five years ago when he first learned about it, but now Ward knew how what a huge asset this was to have on the Bus. Part of him couldn't believe it was even on the plane in the first place, but another part thoroughly approved. Yes, let's give her the truth serum and then there'd be no more of this banter and stonewalling. Just nice simple answers and then he could be done with her and send her off to jail.

Problem. Solved.

* * *

Well, Skye pondered, if she had to get kidnapped by scary men in dark suits, at least one of them was serious eye candy._ 'Or at least he would be if he wasn't such a robot,'_ she thought sadly. What was up his ass anyways? It wasn't that he was crabby; no, grumpy looked good on him. It just seemed like he had a personal vendetta against her, like he genuinely loathed her. _'Well, I don't like him either, so there!'_

After a couple minutes, Skye looked up when a section of the wall opened up. It was kinda cool, in how it was camouflaged with the rest of the walls. And the floor. And the ceiling- Seriously! They need a new interior decorator! But as the two of the agents reentered the room, she noted with a bit of wary that Agent Ward had a very satisfied expression on his face. He circled around the table and when she tried to stand, a hand was placed on her shoulder, sitting her back down. "What-" Skye tried to yell at him, but then she noticed the other agent, Coulson, holding something up in front of her face.

"_This_ is QNB-T16," he told her," It's the top shelf martini of sodium pentathoyl derivitives. It's a brand new and extremely potent truth drug." A truth serum? He _can't_ be serious. That stuff doesn't exist. Right? But judging by the smile on his face, he wasn't joking," Don't worry. The effects only last about an hour."

Ward walked back around to Coulson's side, still with that stupid smirk," Then you'll take a _niiiice_ little nap." Because that didn't sound like an evil bad guy at all. "And we'll have all the answers to-"

Then Coulson shot him in the arm with the QNB-T16.

"Ow! Hey!" Ward jumped away from the older agent, clutching his arm where the injector gun shot him," What the _hell_, Phil?!"

"I'm sorry, did that hurt?" Coulson, or _Phil_, asked and Skye couldn't tell if he actually seemed apologetic or not.

A range of emotions ran over Ward's face, starting with disbelief, then offended, settling on annoyed. "_No_," he bit out a little more forcefully than he probably intended, probably because it really did hurt and he didn't like sharing his pain. _'Ooh, a big tough guy,'_ any other time and Skye would've had a blast taking down that tough as nails act.

"You've lost your mind," Ward scolded him, as if talking to an annoying kid rather than his superior officer," You should never do that to a member of your team, and yes: it did hurt a little bit. I was trying to mask my pain in front of a beautiful woman-" Skye's eyebrows shot up "-because I think it makes me seem more masculine. My _God_, this stuff works fast!" He sat down in a huff, rubbing lightly at his arm and pointedly looking away from both of them.

There was probably a look of complete shock on her face, Skye knew there was, but her mind was still having a little trouble catching up. Okay, first off: Coulson just shot Agent T-1000 with a dose of truth serum. Said Agent T-1000 also thought she was beautiful and just admitted to trying to look cool and masculine for her sake. It all made sense now! He didn't hate her; he _liked_ her!

_'Oh, this is just too perfect,'_ a grin slid onto her face, and glancing at Phil, she caught an equally amused grin on his face. He also thought this was fucking hilarious. "Don't trust us?" he asked her, but still couldn't seem to wipe the shit eating grin off his face," Ask him whatever you'd like." Wait, _what_? He was giving her the right to interrogate Mr. Puppy Love over here?

"Wait a minute," Ward realized it the same moment she did," You can't just-" Coulson opened the door and walked out. "This is definitely not protocol!" The door shut with a bang and a hiss, and the room fell silent.

He looked like he was in pain and that he'd rather be anywhere but here, but Skye couldn't find it in her feel sorry for him. This is what he gets for kidnapping her from her home, with a bag over her head! _'Hmm, what first?'_ Well, first of all, poor agent robot was having a little trouble with the fact that he admitted she was beautiful. What if she messed with him just a teensy little bit more?

So she took her jacket off," You seem nervous." Skye knew she had a sultry voice. It's part of the reason why she made such an awesome spokeswoman for the Rising Tide. Even if the world never saw her face, her voice sounded great over the radio. She sounded feminine, yet still with a strong presence. And _there_ it was! He looked at her breasts and she knew she saw his eyes darken. Aha! So… Robot is a breast kind of man…

"Agent Ward," she said his name and his eyes shot up to her face, as if he just realized where he had been looking. She thought it was cute how his jaw was hanging wide open, right before he clicked it shut with a grumpy frown.

"I'm calling to mind my training," he declared, trying to sound just as tough as he did five minutes ago. It didn't work. She stood up and headed around the table; it felt nice to be the one standing now while he sat in the chair. She could understand why he liked it.

Tearing his eyes away from her (but not before they glanced down for just a second again), he stared at the metal table," There's no way I'm going to reveal classified secrets to a girl that's hell bent on taking us down."

Skye sidled up next to him, her arm almost touching his shoulder, but not quite. She decided to just go for it," Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Yes," his voice was dark, and mean, and for one scary moment, he sounded proud," A few." Then he sucked in a breath and she was glad to see a look of guilt flash across his face. "High risk targets," he amended, his eyes following her as she circled around him," but they were terrible people-" She settled on his other side, making sure to keep her 'assets' in his line of view, just to mess with him. "-who tried to murder nice people." Wow, way to sound juvenile about it. "And I didn't feel good afterwards." That doesn't mean he didn't feel bad about it, either.

"Does your grandmother know about these things?"

And that's when she broke Agent Ward. "Gramsy?"


	4. Pilot part 3

"My gramsy died when I was twelve," he told her upon further questioning, his jaw clenching as if just talking about it pained him," I was told it was a stroke." Skye felt a bit bad, her asking about his dead grandma had upset him, and she really hadn't been trying to do so. Maybe it'd be better if she changed the subject…

"So you really have no idea what Centipede is?" she asked instead.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but it looked like his shoulders relaxed and he might've sighed in relief. '_Huh, guess he really doesn't like talking about his family.' _"No," he said, this time a little easier than when he told her about his gramsy," I've never heard of it until you mentioned it. We were just sent out to find you so we could find the hooded man, but we never expected you to have any other information."

"Yeah, I figured," Skye smiled wryly, remembering how he tried to hide it," You know, you were pretty bad hiding your surprise."

He glared at her, but said nothing, leading her to believe that he'd only answer questions and wouldn't respond to statements. She was starting to figure out this truth serum stuff, how it did and didn't work. "How long does this QNB stuff last?" she wondered out loud.

"Ten minutes, give or take a couple minutes," he replied instantly, which she hadn't been expecting (it hadn't really been a question directed at him)," It depends on the person's size and weight and how fast their body can cycle through the serum. I'm fairly big, so while it works fast, it'll last longer on me before I pass out from the side effects. But I also have faster metabolism than most people, so it's likely that you'll have less time to question me."

"Well, it certainly makes you talkative," she smirked at him.

His glare didn't lesson up, and she remembered he'd only truthfully answer questions. "I hate it," he said suddenly, surprising her as she hadn't asked a question yet," I hate talking and I hate being interrogated, and right now I'm really pissed off at Coulson for doing this. But even more, I hate you."

Well that was just plain mean. "Are you always this cranky?" she snapped back at him," Why are you so angry with me? _You_ kidnapped _me_, remember?"

"You almost got me killed three separate times in Paris."

"What?" Skye blinked," I've never even been to Paris. What are you talking about?"

"My mission prior to this was in France," he confessed, scowling at her," I was investigating the black market, trying to find alien weaponry so _bad people_-" he emphasized unnecessarily," -couldn't use it against _good people._ That was my job, and then your stupid Rising Tide group kept posting classified information about it. You blew my cover twice!"

Okay, now she could understand why he was a little angry. Getting almost killed tended to make people cranky, but still- "Sorry, Terminator, but that wasn't me," she told, shrugging off his glare like it was nothing," I didn't have anything to do with Paris or any of your ops. I've been focusing only on finding Centipede before your SHIELD could."

It was almost cute how his glare turned into what could only be an annoyed pout. "You're still the reason why I got pulled out of Paris early," his tone turned surly," I was looking forward to a couple days off so I could actually _see_ the city."

'_Poor baby_,' she hummed, but didn't really feel all that sorry for him. She wished she had the chance to even _go_ to France. "Are you really that upset about being on this mission?" because really, he was just being a big baby about it," I mean, at least no one's shooting at you, right?"

"You're ten times more annoying than dangerous-" she frowned at him for that one, but he just continued," -but I am happy to be working with Coulson again. I just wish I could've gone with him to Tahiti."

"Tahiti?"

Ward nodded, then he yawned. "He almost died during the battle of New York," he told her, and Skye noticed that he was sounding a little sluggish," He got to recover and vacation in Tahiti." He yawned again. "Lucky bastard, Tahiti sounds nice."

Skye almost laughed," Does the T-1000 want a vacation?"

"What I want is to get back in the field, doing what I know and what I'm good at," he admitted," I'm not a big fan of talking-" "So you've said," she interjected. "-with hostiles, and bringing people in, and big fancy planes. This is Coulson's style, not mine."

"And what _is_ your style? The kidnapping me part?"

To Skye's surprise, he didn't actually answer that. No, he just put his head down, resting them on his arms like he was about to fall asleep. 'There's no way it's been ten minutes already!' But sure enough, it looked like the big guy was going down for the count. "Ward?" she leaned forward, trying to determine if his eyes were closed or not," Hey, calling Agent Ward. You still with me?"

He groaned in response, too tired to really say anything else.

Skye paused for a moment, wondering if she had time to ask him just one more question. If she was going to do it, she'd better ask now, while she knew he'd give her the truth. "What are you guys really planning to do to him?" she asked quietly," The Hooded Hero?"

"Keep him safe," came Ward's immediate answer, muffled by his arms," Too many bad people in the world… Got to keep good ones safe when we can…"

Damn! He just had to go and say something sweet and kind and actually nice, and now she kinda almost felt bad for teasing him earlier about being heartless. "And me?" she almost didn't want to ask," What are you guys going to do to me now?"

"Ask…" he paused to yawn again, his voice growing quieter and even closer to sleep," …Coulson. Door's unlocked." Then he was quiet.

"Ward?" she poked his shoulder. Nothing. "Great," she leaned back, watching him a second longer to make sure he wasn't faking it -he wasn't- but still largely disappointed. Now she'd never know until they locked her up in prison or other just because they didn't like her and her 'style'.

Oh well, he did say the door was unlocked…

* * *

She was right: it was a plane. A really nice, fancy schmancy plane that looked more like the inside of a really nice hotel. '_How could he _not_ like this?'_ she wondered. She'd give anything to live on a plane this nice. She found Agent Coulson a bit further down the hall, in a room made of glass walls, giant screens, and a table also made out of glass and computer screen. It was a sweet setup and she really wished she had one like it. "Did Agent Ward give you anything?" he asked when she approached, fiddling with something on the computer table thingy.

Skye glanced up at one of the screens, and saw surveillance footage of the interrogation room. Ward was still where she left him, fast asleep on the table like a little baby. Idly, Skye wondered if it had sound and if Coulson had listened to their every word… he probably did. "He told me he's been to Paris," she began, walking up to Coulson's side," but he's never actually seen it-" she placed her hands on the table and leaned against it," -and that he wishes he went with you to Tahiti."

"It's a magical place," he said automatically, which she thought a little creepy, and she was kinda glad Ward didn't go. Especially if he had come back saying 'it's a magical place'.

"Ward doesn't like your style," she said instead, glancing around at the admittedly nice setup," I'm kind of thinking I do, though."

"What about his?" he asked, and for a moment she wondered if he was asking about Ward's style -she never found out- and then he swiped his hand so that one of the screens turned into news footage. "-_remains in critical condition,_" a TV news anchor was reporting,"_Employees could not identify the attacker but security footage confirms that this man assaulted the factory foreman before damaging thousands of dollars of-"_ While Skye was staring, horrified, at video of Mike ripping equipment apart and attacking an innocent man. No, no no no! She couldn't believe her eyes; the guy she talked to, Mike, he was a good guy. He seemed a little annoyed with her, but he was _nice_ and polite and he wouldn't do this!

"This is…" she stuttered; she couldn't take her eyes off the TV," This is wrong. This is not… the guy I met. He was…" she paused, seeing the knowing look on Coulson's face. "He just needs a break," she finished.

Coulson looked like he understood. "Then give him one," he said, and Skye suddenly _believed_ Ward's admission that they were just trying to protect Mike. From all this bad influence and the media and from anyone that might want to use him. "What do you got, Skye?"

"His name is Mike," she finally said, pulling out the Driver's ID she had lifted off him earlier. She'd been in the middle of running a background check on him when Agents Ward and Coulson took her from her van, and now she wished she had done it sooner. Maybe all of this could've been avoided.

"Tell me what you know, then go check on Ward," he told her, seeing how distraught seeing Mike like that made her," The rest of my team will be here soon. I'll fill them in and then we'll figure out the best way to talk some sense into Mike."

* * *

Well, Ward was still passed out when Skye checked on him (and snoring -she was sooo going to make fun of him later!) so she headed back out to meet the team. Fitzsimmons (Skye thought it was adorable how they had a combined name) were sweet and Skye instantly liked them. And May was… 'scary' was a good way to put it. So in the spirit of keeping her innards inside her body, Skye kept a wide berth while Coulson briefed the team.

"Michael Peterson," he announced, practically slapping the driver's license ID onto the -totally awesome- holotable. The table read the card instantly and a bunch of files on Mike started popping up on the computer. '_I have to get me one of these,_' she promised herself, wondering where one had to go to _get_ a holotable. Without building it from scratch. "Factory worker," Coulson continued, circling the table while the others studied the information before them," Married. One kid. Gets injured, gets laid off, wife jumps ship."

Skye frowned,' _What a shitty wife_.' She hated people like that; 'for better or worse' was right there in the vows!

"Good guy. Bad breaks." That was an understatement. "Best guess is, someone tells him they can make him strong again. Make him super."

May glanced up from the holotable first. "Who has the tech to do that?" she questioned, and by her tone it sounded like even she found it unbelievable. "And why would they want to?"

Good question, Agent May.

"Fitz, what do we have from the security footage? Before the blast," Coulson turned to the red headed scotsman. 'The engineer,'Skye remembered.

A few clicks later, and then there was an image of the lab before it exploded. It looked like there was a normal guy and a scientist, the former pointing angrily at the latter. "What are we seeing?" May asked.

"Well," Fitz fumbled for an answer, pointing distractedly at the image," the man is… angry…at the other man."

Everyone stared at him, and Skye tried really hard not to roll her eyes. And the best part, Fitz didn't even seem to realized how everyone was staring at him. Eventually, Simmons took pity on him and tried to salvage the situation," The data was very corrupt."

"Yeah, like Cold War Russia corrupt," Fitz emphasized," I… I can't sync the time code without-"

"What if you had the audio?" Skye spoke out before she could really think it through. Oh great, now everyone was looking at her. "I was running surveillance on the lab," she explained, figuring Coulson already told them that she was targeting Centipede," I had my shot and I printed the window before the blast. The digital file is in my van, but there's too much background noise for me. Maybe you can-"

Understanding her instantly, Simmons tapped Fitz on the arm," _You_ could clean that up, can't you?" He turned to her, a thoughtful expression on his face. The two started muttering and talking too fast for anyone to really understand. Something about a 'back porch'? Finally, after a minute or two they both turned to her -in unison, how _cute_!- and spoke their affirmative, sounding so polite that it was adorable.

"Your van's here, but you were right; we couldn't decrypt your files," she heard Coulson say and Skye turned to him with a small smile on her face. She already knew they wouldn't be able to. No one could without her knowledge.

"The encryption's coupled with a GPS," she finally told him, and dare she say it,it _almost_ looked like Agent May was impressed. "Get my van back in that alley and then we're in business."

Both May and Coulson were nodding, and he said," Agent May will escort you."

'_Great_,' Skye sighed, now she had her very own guard. Hopefully she was a bit more friendlier than Agent T-1000. Speaking of which, Coulson told May," And on your way out, wake up Ward."

Well, it's showtime!

* * *

Grant was annoyed when he woke up. Extremely annoyed. To be honest, he wasn't even sure who he was more annoyed with: Coulson or Skye. Coulson for shooting him with the damn QNB-T16, or Skye for taking advantage of it.

And now she knew that he found her attractive… It was decided, he was more annoyed with Skye. He really couldn't be too mad at Coulson. He never could hold a grudge against him, and besides, this little stunt got them her trust didn't it?

"So what did that get us?" he asked, walking out and seeing Fitz running back and forth in the lab. Simmons and Coulson were off in one corner, where the former was drilling into a chunk of metal and brown goo. He did not want to know what.

Fitz answered him, still running around," Skye's sending us the rest of the decrypted files on Centipede," he picked up… something and ran back to his computer," but we have our audio and I've loaded it up."

'_It's a start_,' he mused, but still a little disappointed. She was only giving them Centipede and not the rest of her information? Come on, he got shot with truth serum and got all talkative and everything! With as much discomfort he's gone through today, he deserved the girl's freaking life story by now. Still scowling, he glanced up and saw Coulson smiling.

"Nice work," he congratulated him.

'_Oh don't you start with that!'_ Ward didn't need a mirror to know that his lips were pursed and his eyebrows narrowed as he glared at his mentor. His expression clearly said,' _I'm still going to get you for that later.'_

And he just kept on smiling! All proud of himself and everything…

You know what, it was safer if he just ignored Coulson for now and focused on the mission. So instead, he watched the Scotsman (Fritz? Was that his name?) yap and run around, tinkering with his gadgets. He wondered if only his female counterpart understood a word he said, because he sure as hell didn't.

Then the guy fiddled with a… remote of some sort and -whoa! Four lights in the cargo bay created a life size, 3 dimensional model of the lab before the explosion!

'_We have some pretty cool technology_,' Ward admired, and felt a little envious that this sort of technology hadn't been available to him prior to this. This would've been extremelyhelpful in Bolivia…

Stepping forward, Ward investigated the 3D model, taking note of everything in the 'lab'. He noticed a silver briefcase sitting on the counter by the two people. "Explosive's in the case?" he guessed out loud.

At that moment, Skye's audio filtered through, adding sound to the moving picture. "_P-please calm down_," the scientist begged, sounding nervous," _Just let me chec_k _your vitals_."

"_I feel fine_," the other man (Ward decided he was the assailant) cut him off, and his tone confused Ward. He sounded… excited? "_I want to feel **more**,"_ his voice escalated into desperation," _Where's the doctor?" _Doctor? Wasn't the lab coat guy a doctor? The assailant shouted, angry now," _Where is she?!"_

Now the scientist sounded terrified," _If you don't settle down, I-I-I'll have you sedated."_

The assailant picked up a chair and very narrowly missed the scientist," _Where is she!"_

"Wait," Fitz stopped the feed, freezing the picture," Did you… Did you see that on his arm?" Ward stepped closer to the assailant's holographic double, watching carefully as Fitz rewound the feed, pausing it just as he was lifting the chair. Yeah, he saw it… a weird looking device going up the underside of his forearm, looking every bit like a- "A centipede." Just like Skye said.

Then Fitzsimmons (the female one) stood up and rushed over," It's an intravenous filter for his blood." She sounded more than a little bit worried," This goo, sir. Very similar to the serum Dr. Erskine developed in the 40's for-"

Both Coulson and Ward recognized the name instantly (Ward knew from all the stories Coulson told years ago) "Super soldiers," they both echoed.

She continued explaining," I'm reading: alien metal, gamma radiation, the serum. Every known source of superpower, thrown into a blender." Just one of those alone was questionable at best, terrible and cataclysmic at worst. _Combine_ them and there's a fucking can of worms.

"We need to see the origin of the blast," Coulson ordered, turning to Fitz," Run it back from the last point of footage."

So he did. The bomb… wasn't a bomb. The explosion didn't come from the case, like Ward thought. The explosion came from the assailant, when all those doomsday superpower sources collided and couldn't be compatible. Resulting in the assailant… going boom. '_This is bad,_' he gulped,' _Very bad.'_

"Extremis," Coulson announced, and none of them recognized the word. "It's new." So of course Coulson knew about it before anyone else. "Completely unstable."

'_That's an understatement._'

"Poor man didn't _bring_ an explosive," Simmons sighed, sounding worried," And Mike has the same stuff in his system."

Not just the same stuff. Ward saw the assailant pick up a chair, but he also saw Mike Peterson toss heavy equipment around like paper. "Judging by his strength level," he said," He's got a lot more."

To make matters worse, if this stuff turns humans into walking bombs, then- "So wait, are you saying-" Fitz started to ask, but his face fell when Simmons nodded.

"At any minute, he could take out a two block radius."

Out of all of them, only Coulson appeared to be calm. "Well," he spoke to Ward as he walked past," You wanted a bomb."

'_A bomb I could defuse,_' he corrected in his mind, but didn't dare speak out loud. A bomb, a _real_ bomb, he could defuse with his eyes closed. But a human explosion… This could only end in hundreds of deaths…

Ward stomped from the room.

.

.

A/N: so funny thing, there's some speculation as to QNB-T16 being _real. _But as I wrote this chapter, I noticed something interesting. Everyone Coulson or anyone mentions it, Ward gets this really angry and frustrated look on his face. Like he's one comment away from yelling at Coulson. If that had been all planned, he wouldn't be mad, because he would've expected. No, I think Coulson really _did_ shoot Ward with truth serum, and he's still angry about it. :)


	5. Pilot part 4

The Hub

Location: Classified

Fourteen and a Half Years Ago

Grant Ward's room at the Hub was spotless. His bed was made with military precision, the floors swept and mopped, his small closet organized and color coded, and what few belongings he had were lined up perfectly on his desk. Currently he was sitting on the floor, polishing his boots with a fervor she'd never seen anyone clean boots with.

Natasha leaned against the door jamb, watching him for a full minute. She knew he knew she was there. As quiet as she may be, Grant always just had this extra sense; he always knew when someone was watching him. Clint and Coulson thought it was a skill, just something Grant was good at. But Natasha knew better…

It was a defense mechanism, a skill he developed to protect himself, so that he could never be caught off guard.

But for the full minute while she watched him, he didn't say anything nor even glance up. He just finished one boot to his satisfaction, and putting it aside he started on the second one. Eventually, she was the one to break the silence. "Most teenage boys' rooms are messy," her tone was calm, conversational.

He still didn't look up. "I'm not most teenage boys."

No, he was not. But she also wasn't most big sisters who would leave when it was made clear their baby brother would rather be left alone. "Most teenage boys don't live in a spy headquarters," she shot back.

There, _that_ got a reaction out of him. Dark eyes glanced up, just for a second, and Natasha saw a hint of hurt in a sea of ire before he lowered his gaze back to the boot. "For a spy organization," he said angrily," People are horrible at keeping their voices down."

Ahh, so that's the problem. Clint had mentioned overhearing some… unsavory things while skulking about and sneaking up on other agents. At first, Natasha hadn't wanted to hear it, but the thought was planted in her head. So a few days later, she started sneaking around, trying to overhear any conversation she could find. And when she heard the same things Clint told her… it took all of her self control not to kill someone.

Her only hope was that Grant hadn't heard anything.

Obviously that had been a false hope. "As a true spy, I'm deeply offended by them," she responded, still sounding calm and collected, despite being truly pissed off. It was best to just let him come forward; he'll talk about it in his own pace.

Sure enough, he scrubbed furiously at the boot a few moments longer before just throwing the things to the floor. The boot and polish rag laid on the floor and he glared at them, as if willing them to burst into fire. "So," she hummed," Do you always go on a cleaning spree when you're pissed off?"

Grant bit the inside of his cheek, but realizing it was pointless to ignore Natasha he answered," My father would always get mad whenever the house was messy, so my mother made us clean it constantly. Said it gave him one less thing to complain about, one less reason to hit us."

Natasha remained quiet, just listening. It wasn't often Grant spoke of his family; the talks with Coulson and the months here were making it easier for him, but Natasha understood just how hard it was to move forward. But at times like this, when he would revert back to old habits, she knew he needed more than a pep talk from Coulson or Clint. Grant was like her; he was a man of action. He needed to constantly be moving, to be doing something, to be working with his hands.

But first, she needed to break him of this habit ingrained by his mother. "Scoot over," she said, just nudging him aside when he gaped at her wide eyed. Once there was sufficient room for her, she sat down crosslegged and pulled out two of her pistols. Just a couple of .9 mils, something she used when she wasn't in the mood to beat her targets down with her hands.

She handed one to Grant," Take it apart, then put it back together." He eyed her, but accepted the gun. With the usual efficiency she's come to expect from him, and no doubt from his days in the military camp, he started taking the gun apart at lightning speed. But when he saw her slowly and meticulously taking apart her own gun, at a snail's pace compared to his, he paused and deliberately slowed himself down. "Clint says you'll never find guns in better shape than mine," she said conversationally.

Grant glanced down at the parts spread out before him, already laid out in perfect order and just waiting to be put back together again. She was right, this pistol was in perfect condition. Cleaned to perfection, polished to a shine, and each part looking as if brand new. "It's smart to have your weapon taken care of and ready," he agreed.

She nodded," Not just smart. It's productive, something worth doing when you can't lash out like you want to."

His head snapped out and his dark eyes stared at her incredulously. Natasha just continued, calmly piecing her pistol back together," When I started at SHIELD, it took a long time before I got used to the whispers, to the things other agents were saying. It took even longer for them to stop."

He found it hard to believe anyone ever said anything bad about Natasha. She was such an amazing agent, and there were so many that respected her. Both her leadership, her espionage skills, and her unofficial championship in the sparring dojo. (Not even Clint could take her down). He on the other hand, he was the perfect target for all the whispers that really weren't that quiet.

"They say I'm not worth the trouble Coulson's going through," he admitted, the words escaping him in a deep sigh," I'm just a delinquent that you guys picked up; a pet project." And the worst part? They wereright. Look at where they had to get him: jail. This bracelet on his wrist was just proof of how hopeless he was. He was a criminal, charged for attempted murder on his own flesh and blood.

"I'll never be accepted into the SHIELD academy. I'll never be an agent like you guys. I mean, just _look_ at my history."

At that, she scoffed. She actually scoffed. "Trust me, you don't have the worst history by far," she argued," When SHIELD has a kill order out on you, then you can talk."

Grant eyed her, wondering what she was talking about and who, but she wasn't offering up any more information. Instead, she told him," No matter what anyone else says, we see in you what no one else can. You have potential to be a great agent, Grant, and one day you'll probably be the second best this agency has."

He just had to ask," Who's the first?"

Natasha's grin was wry and smug as she snapped the last piece of her pistol, the magazine, into place. "Me."

* * *

Los Angeles Air Field

Present Day

Coulson sighed when he saw Ward disassembling and reassembling his rifle in the control center. "You still do that, I see," he commented as he walked in. Ward simply glanced up, saw that it was just Coulson, then went right back to his rifle.

"It's smart to prepared," he retorted.

Before Coulson could say anything in response to _that_, Fitzsimmons ran in. "Sir, he didn't explode because he was angry," Simmons began.

That was good news, Coulson thought happily. "So as long as we keep him calm, he won't explode?" he asked, because if that was the case, then-

Then she had to sigh and shake her head. "Well, the two are connected; it's kind of a chemical surge. But calming him down will only buy you a minute at most." Her expression was grim, and behind her Fitz looked even more so. "He _will_ detonate in the next few hours."

Coulson didn't even want to imagine that happening. There had to be a way to stop it. "Solution?" he demanded.

"…Isolate him? Get him away from people?" she suggested.

'_And just _let_ him explode?'_ "Or?" he pressed.

Fitz answered reluctantly," Put a bullet through his brain…"

Click. The sound of Ward and his sniper rifle suddenly became very loud in the room. It was… a grim realization, that their only options were to let Mike die. And to make matters worse, he knew who would have to pull that trigger…and he was already getting his rifle ready…

"-the process will stop," he vaguely heard Simmons explain, but he didn't want to hear it. All he wanted to hear was a solution, a _real_ solution.

Click. And he damn well couldn't listen to Ward and his gun anymore! "You need to come up with a third option," he ordered. Click. "One that doesn't involve Mike's son losing a father." Then he started walking away, he couldn't be here and listen to Ward get ready to shoot an innocent man in order to save hundreds more.

Then Simmons had to speak up," Sir, we only have a couple hours at most, there's no way that we could possibly-"

"Don't _ever_ tell me that there's no way!" he whipped around, his stern gaze settling on the female scientist. She looked terrified, never having expected him to raise his voice. And Coulson knew it, he had a reputation of remaining calm in most situations. But this wasn't most situations; they were talking about an innocent man's life. And when he heard another click, louder than necessary, he knew that he wasn't the only one upset.

Before him stood the most brilliant minds the SHIELD academy had to offer. If anyone could find a solution, they could. "It's on you," he conveyed, glancing between both of them," Get it done."

* * *

'_Stay calm, stay collected, you're no use to anyone if you lose your head,'_ Ward chanted in his head, remembering all the lessons he's learned as a Specialist,' _Compartmentalize. Don't get attached; it's a weakness. It's for the greater good.'_ But damnit, it wasn't working! On the outside he appeared calm, taking apart his gun and stowing it for portability, his face carefully blank. But for the few people who knew him and his habits, they knew that his constant fiddling with the gun was a nervous tick.

Grant was scared as hell. Here he was, preparing to take an innocent man's life. '_And right after I told Skye I only kill bad people,_'he lamented,' _Now, I'm going to be a fucking murderer.'_

Behind him, he heard Coulson switch on the speaker comm," Give us your status, May. Has Skye-"

**"He took Skye."**

Ward froze. Who took Skye? Mike? Mike Peterson? But why would he- How did he even get past May? He whirled around and saw the same worried expression on Coulson's face. "Are you alright?" he was asking her, apparently coming to the same conclusion that Ward had. That May probably fought Peterson before he got the best of her, before he kidnapped Skye.

She sounded particularly pissed when she answered," **We'll deal with that later…at _length_. Right now we need to figure out where they went."** Then she hung up, presumably to head back to the Bus.

Coulson turned to Ward, who was already holding a small tablet in his hands. "Do we still have Skye's IP address?" he asked, poking at a few buttons on the tablet," If she still has her computer, maybe we can trace the location of-"

Beep. Beep. Beep. A red alert popped up on the screen, signalling a security breach. "What?" he looked up from his tablet," Do you think...?" A glance at Coulson told him that yes, he really did think-

"She still has her computer." A series of numbers rolled across the screen, in a style that Ward recognized instantly. Latitude and longitude. "And she's telling us exactly where she is," Coulson smiled," Ward, get-"

He was already gone, walking quickly towards the cargo ramp. As he passed the lab, he was vaguely aware of Fitzsimmons working at top speed and fussing about the alert just now coming across their screens. There were two vehicles on the off ramp: Lola and a black SUV. Ward was not suicidal enough to touch Lola, so he strolled to the SUV, hitting the unlock for the bay doors as he went.

By the time Coulson waltzed into the cargo bay, Ward was already in the driver's seat, turning the engine over. _'Come on, Phil,'_ he urged in his mind,' _We don't have all_ _day_.'After what felt like forever, Coulson took his seat in the passenger's side and Ward backed the truck up.

* * *

It was… odd, being the driver while Coulson sat in the passengers seat. Ward couldn't count the number of times he sat in that exact spot, watching while Coulson drove them around. Once, when he was 18, Ward got to drive one of SHIELD's standard issue black SUV's. Considering the only time he'd ever driven before was with a stolen car on his drive back to Massachusetts, the ride hadn't gone as smoothly as possible. He sped -a lot-, hit a lot of curbs, ran a few red lights, almost hit an old lady jay walking across the street ("She shouldn't be crossing there," Ward defended himself) and almost broke the transmission because he kept forgetting to push the clutch in and shift. Barton thought it was a blast, Coulson did not. (He never let Ward drive again after that)

A small beep from the navigation system told them that Fitzsimmons had forwarded the address to the in-vehicle GPS screen. "A train station?" he pondered," Where's he going?"

For his part, Coulson seemed rather calm despite Ward being the driver. (At least Ward looked like he knew what he was doing…) "Ever heard the saying 'Take the money and run'?" he quipped.

He got a raised eyebrow in response. So he shrugged," Same concept."

"So in this situation, it's 'Take the _girl_ and run'?" Ward echoed," Why?"

"Don't know," Coulson responded," We'll ask him when we see him."

Ward scoffed, they didn't exactly have time to be asking Peterson inane questions. "So," Coulson mused," It looks like you've gotten better at driving…"

It was a peace offering, Ward understood that. A way to defuse the tension, to try and get Ward's mind off the current situation (imminent explosion, a human bomb, a likely hostage, possible massacre, not to mention _he shot him with a freaking truth serum_). Maybe he really was trying to reconnect after so many years of being absent, reminiscing on things from so long ago. Either way, Ward was so not in the mood. Seven years ago, he might've commented on how he was still a dangerous driver, but at least now it was on purpose and not his own ineptitude behind a steering wheel. Right now, all he could hiss out through his teeth was," Thanks."

The rest of the drive to the train station was quiet and awkward and ten levels of uncomfortable.

To make matter worse, the train station and outlying parking lots were massive. Trying to find two people in all this was going to be a hassle. Coulson said as much," We need to find them fast…" He glanced around, seeing so many people and so many entrances," But how?"

At that moment, Ward pulled off to the side and parked the truck. "By finding Skye's ugly, blue van." He pointed forward, where said blue van -looking large and out of place parked on the sidewalk- sat near an entrance.

"Huh," Coulson nodded in approval, and unbuckled his seat belt. Ward reached behind his seat for his rifle. "Leave it," Coulson ordered, causing Ward to freeze.

"What?" he stared at him in surprise. 'Leave it'? This rifle was the only chance they had to stop Peterson from blowing up the goddamn place.

"Leave it, Ward," Coulson repeated.

"But-" he protested, but Coulson was already exiting the truck. "Damnit!" he swore under his breath, and leaving the rifle he too got out. Once outside, the noise and bustle almost made his pause. God, there were at least a hundred people in the first 50 yard radius alone. He didn't even want to think about how many people were inside. If this explosion was going to be as big as the British girl said, then all these people were going to _die_.

"Look at this place," he tried to make Coulsonsee," You're going to risk thousands of lives for just one person?"

Yet Coulson didn't understand, or he just didn't want to. "I know you don't want to shoot Mike as much as me," he simply said, never slowing down in his steps.

"Of course I don't," he shot back," But what about all these other people? We can't just let them die because you tried to save one doomed man."

"I'm not making you shoot a man in front of his son," Coulson just insisted.

"At least that son will _live_ if I do!"

"No one's dying today, Ward," Coulson claimed, resolute even in the face of Ward's anger," Fitzsimmons will come through."

'_You're putting a lot of faith in a couple of kids,'_ Ward thought, grumbling to himself. But he didn't dare argue further, as Coulson lifted up a megaphone (when did he grabthat?) and faced Skye's van.

"Mr. Peterson, good morning."

'_ 'Good morning'? Seriously?!'_

"We're not a threat. We're here to help, but you're in danger and we need to take you in." Out of the corner of his eye, Ward saw a couple of police officers near them -May probably called them- and faced the van alongside him. All four watched the vehicle, neither seeing any movement inside or heard any response. With all the noise coming from the nearby crowd, Ward doubted they'd hear it anyways, though he thought he might've heard Peterson shout," What did you do?!" at presumably Skye.

'_Shit_,' was all he had time to think before the van door literally flew off its hinges. Everyone ducked for cover, scrambling to avoid the flying projectile. Next, when Ward managed to regain his bearings and glance up, Peterson was running past them. One hand was around Skye's elbow, dragging her with, and the other… was holding a small child. '_His son!'_ He panicked, knowing that Mike was angry, was about to explode, and Skye and Ace were literally right in the line of fire.

He didn't have time to go back to the truck and get his rifle, so when he saw one of the police officers drop his gun, he grabbed it. Then he ran after them, not waiting for Coulson's orders.

* * *

He was right: inside the train station it was a hundred times worse. There were people everywhere, it was loud as hell, and he couldn't see them. "Skye!" he yelled, hoping she at least would shout back, but his voice was lost in the dull roar. '_Come on,' _he urged her mentally,' _Give me a sign. You're annoying and piss everyone off. **Make a scene**!'_

And as if to answer his prayers, a fight broke out. It was too much of a coincidence to be anything else, especially when Ward saw a man literally go flying into the wall. He didn't know how she did it, but thank God, he praised as he ran towards the commotion.

By the time he reached Peterson, there was a wide berth around Mike. Even worse, Skye and Ace were nowhere to be seen. "Ace!" Mike was howling, looking around for his son," _Ace_!" It was the worry, the concern, and the fear that made Ward not reach for the glock. Mike was scared, terrified that his son was in trouble. That he was out of his sight and therefore he couldn't protect him.'_He just doesn't know that **he's** the_ _danger_,'Ward sympathized.

So instead, he attacked him from behind. Kicked his legs to make him drop and held him in an headlock. "Look, the stuff inside you is unstable," he tried to explain, tried to get him to calm down long enough to listen," It'll kill you and everyone in here."

But Mike fought back, snarling at him instead," Who's going to miss us?"

'_What?'_ Ward thought incredulously before Mike threw him off and onto the floor. Hard. '_Ow…' _he groaned, unable to articulate his pain as the wind had been horribly knocked out of him,_' I hate super soldiers.'_

BANG! What could only be a shotgun echoed throughout the station, loud even over all the screams. Ward recognized the sound instantly, and briefly wondered why a police officer even had a shotgun. The standard issue is always a pistol. "I thought you told them to hold fire," he asked Coulson when he appeared to help him up.

"I don't think that's us," he answered," We have a third party here."

"He's going to head down to the tracks," he commanded," You stay high, I'll go low." Grant nodded, running off to go get his rifle. "You only take the shot if you _have_ to, Ward," he yelled after him.

Ward pretended not to hear him.

"Ward!"

With a scowl, he looked over his shoulder. "If I have to," he repeated.


	6. Pilot part 5

A/N: "Sometimes good people have to do bad things." Warning, lots of Ward feels in this one. I even felt bad just writing this chapter.

.

Ward reassembled the rifle as he speed walked through the station; he had enough practice with it to do that. His head snapped back and forth, searching and searching for either Skye or Mike. Putting a bullet in Mike wouldn't be any help if he was too late.

Once again, for some reason he couldn't understand he kept thinking of Skye. '_Come_ _on, Skye. Stall. Make another scene_,' he thought. He had to find them in time. Or else this entire place was going to-

Bang!

There it was again, the shotgun. Apparently, someone else found them first. "Fuck!" Ward swore and took off at a run. '_Where_-'

Then he saw them, across the way on the far balcony above the large mural. Ward spotted them just in time to see Mike throw Skye out of the way ('_He's trying to protect her?'_ he thought momentarily in surprise) before a police officer shot him in the shoulder with the shotgun. And then he was falling the three stories down into the main lobby. Right onto the souvenir shop. Even as a super soldier, that had to hurt.

But the guy with the shotgun was still on the balcony with Skye. Without a moment's hesitation, Ward lifted his gun, lowered his head to eye down the sights, and-

-and got to watch first hand as the Cavalry wiped the floor with the guy… Ward stared, a little bit in awe. Growing up with Natasha Romanov gave him some insight on how SHIELD females fought, and he was quite familiar with the style. Fluid, graceful, lots of evasion and using the enemy's strength and size against them, not to mention the Black Widow's signature spinning moves.

But May, the Cavalry, she was _strong_. Pure and simple. She went straight for the guy's legs, then his face, then his gut, before flipping him -hard- onto his back. That was it. Just four moves, and the much larger guy was down. Oh wait, she punched his face for good measure. Still, it was something else. Something he'd never seen before. Not once had May used any of the moves he's come to associate with female fighters; she just simply went in and _overpowered_.

"Wow," he breathed.

Below, he heard Mike struggling to get out of the debris, throwing it aside to get it out of the way. Ward was slightly surprised,' _Didn't that shotgun hit him?_' Obviously it didn't affect him like he previously thought, which worried Grant. Either that phony police officer was a terrible shot, or Mike had more centipede serum in him that they theorized. Which meant a bigger explosion…

Ward lowered his rifle, towards Mike, when Coulson walked in and he paused. '_What_ _are you doing, Coulson?'_

Phil lowered his pistol to the floor. '_You idiot!' _Ward yelled at him in his mind,' _Why do_ _you have to be so goddamn trusting?'_

"You think that means anything?" Mike professed, and glanced up, looking right at Ward," I know you've got men everywhere waiting to put me down."

"_If I have to,_" Ward's own words echoed back to him.

"I know how this plays out."

And Coulson, calm and cryptic bastard that he was, just said," I don't."

'_Yes, you do,'_ Ward narrated in his head, never taking his sights off Mike,_' Fitzsimmons aren't here. They didn't find a cure in time. Someone _has_ to die today.'_

"I know you got poison in your system," Coulson continued, his voice soothing and understanding even as Mike looked around nervously in both rage and fear," I know it's burning you up. Mike, the last guy you wore that-" he pointed to the centipede device,"_exploded_."

Through Ward's lens, he had a clear and close up view of Mike's face. The despair and desperation he saw there was eerily reminiscent, and for a moment, he imagined himself in Mike's shoes. "I'm not like that other guy," Mike proclaimed, his voice cracking," It matters who I am… _Inside_, if I'm a good person… If I'm strong."

Ward froze, he hesitated and if his S.O. were here right now he'd be in a shot load of trouble. But Mike's words, they cut deep and… Ward could remember the first time he'd heard those words in regard to himself

* * *

Outskirts of Seoul

Twelve Years Ago

The night was dark, and he hid in the shadow of a tall building, throwing up whatever he had eaten for lunch yesterday. It burned and it hurt and he just wanted it to go away. The memory of today, the images that still flashed in front of his eyes. It _hurt_. And he was scared, and just the fact that he had been so terrified scared him even more. It had been three years since he felt this kind of fear, and it seemed he had forgotten how it felt.

Once his stomach was empty -there was barely anything in it to begin with- he sat back and finally looked around him. He was lost, hopelessly so. He'd never been to Korea before, and after tonight he was sure he'd never want to return. Not willingly, at least. Glancing down at his wrist, he could barely see in the dim lighting the red marks and cuts. They adorned his arm, where the terrorists had used multiple tools to try and cut off his tracker bracelet. He didn't speak Korean, but he suspected that they had considered just cutting his hand off. Luckily, an electric prod had short circuited the device, causing it to snap open and fall to the ground.

After wearing it for a little over three years, Grant felt naked without it. '_How are they_ _going to find me?'_ he lamented, and realizing that Coulson, Nat, and Clint couldn't find him without the tracker made him tremble. Right now, he really needed them. One of them, all of them, he didn't care. He just needed his family, _right now._

He needed them to tell him that he was okay, that he wasn't a killer like the men that had taken him. (He had only made an errand run to the store; how could he have gotten himself captured in that small window of time?!)

Blood was on Grant's hands, though not literally. He had shot the man on watch while the others left to negotiate with Coulson. He had taken him by surprise, using the moves Clint taught him, and once he was within reach… he took the man's gun… and he shot him. Twice, then again just to be sure. After that, it was all a blur. He remembered taking the keys off the man's belt, unlocking the door, and then just running. He ran and ran until his lungs gave out, and he stopped when he felt the bile coming up his throat.

'_I killed a man_.' He'd never taken a life before. He's certainly tried, when he tried to burn Maynard, but this was different. With Maynard, he had been so full of hate and pain and he just wanted it all to stop. With this man, this stranger that Grant didn't even know the name of… he had stared at him with wide eyes, disbelieving eyes, as Grant stared him down and pulled the trigger. He saw the life drain out of his eyes. And he… he hadn't felt sorry.

Even now, Grant did not feel an ounce of guilt over what he'd done, and that terrified him. Oh, he hadn't enjoyed it, not by far, but when it came to him or Grant… Grant chose himself.

"Grant!" Great, now he was hearing things. Wishing so hard for his family had made him start to hallucinate.

Still, he looked around, hoping that maybe he had heard someone calling his name. "Grant!" the voice repeated, and he nearly cried with relief. He recognized that voice.

"Clint!" he yelled back, not caring if his voice was hoarse. Clint was here; he was safe, he'd go home now.

Barton appeared around the corner a second later, his wide frame blocking most of the light filtering into the narrow alley. He looked tired, and battle weary, and his precious bow was slung sloppily over his shoulder, but Grant was so relieved to see him. "Oh my g-" Clint sucked in a breath, trying to catch his breath after running presumably just as far as Grant had," _You're okay."_ There was a slight hitch in his voice, but no one would call him out on it. In just two steps, he approached Grant and locked him into a bear hug.

Grant was taller than Clint, but that didn't stop the older agent from wrapping his arms around his surrogate brother, as if to shield him from the rest of the world. "Oh my god, we were so worried," he shuddered, feeling the way Grant trembled in his arms," You never came back, and then we got the ransom call, and we tried tracing your bracelet and when it showed up in a _river_-" he slammed to a halt, unable to articulate how afraid they had been.

"How did you find me?" he heard Grant ask meekly.

"If I can find _Natasha_ in _Russia_," Clint answered," I can find you anywhere in the world." He didn't elaborate on what he went through to find him, and he probably would never find out, but at that moment Grant had never been more thankful for Clint's tracking abilities.

"You know…" Clint blurted out," I saw what you did back there. You escaped on your own, didn't you?"

'_He saw the body,'_ Grant flinched,' _He saw… the man I killed._'

"That was your first kill, wasn't it?"

He knew; Clint knew everything and not only because he was always there but because Grant told him everything. So he just nodded, explaining without words that yes, he had taken a life for the first time in his life. "Hey, it's okay," Clint reassured him," It's not your fault, do you hear me? That was a bad man, and you don't have to feel guilty for, you know…_that_."

"But I _don't_," Grant groaned," I don't feel guilty for killing him. I just… I _should_ feel guilty, or terrible, but I don't. What kind of monster does that make me? It shouldn't have been that easy for me!"

Clint blinked at him," Let me get this straight. You feel bad…because you don't feel bad?"

"Yes!"

A long moment passed in which Clint blinked some more, muttered under his breath," Wow, you really _are_ just like Nat," before ruffling his hair. "You may not think you're feeling guilty, kid, but you kind of are," he explained," You were in danger, Grant, and your life was on the line. So when it came between you and him, I'm _glad_ you chose you. But that doesn't make you a monster. It just makes you human."

"So was he," he mumbled back.

"But the difference between him and you, was he was a bad person," Clint persisted," who did terrible things to good people. Who was willing to hurt _you_."

"But you," he poked Grant in the chest," you're a good kid, Grant. A good _person_, and you'll be an even better agent. Yeah, you're going to have to kill some people in this job; it's what we do. But what makes it all worth it, is that we're doing it to protect others."

"How does that make me any better than them? I'm still a killer. What does it matter?"

"It matters who you are." Clint pointed a finger straight at his heart. "Inside, you're a good person. You always will be. And everyone knows, good people are always the strongest and the best."

* * *

Los Angeles

Present Time

"I know you're strong," Coulson told Mike," Your boy knows it. He needs you to let us help you." Ward bit his lip; now was not the time to be thinking of the past.

"You _took_ him!" Mike cried out," You took my wife, my job, my house…" He held up his arm, and they could see the glowing orange centipede device. "You think this is killing me?!" he wailed, and suddenly Ward understood what Mike had meant back in the station.

"_Who's going to miss us?"_ Mike was at the end of his rope… and he saw no reason to keep holding on.

"All over, there's people being pushed down, being robbed… One of them tries to stand up-" he lifted up a heavy piece of kiosk to prove a point," and you gotta make an example out of him."

"You're gonna bring this building down on us, and-"

"That's a lie!" Mike screamed and destroyed the last of the kiosk," All you do is lie!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Ward saw someone run up to Coulson and he risked a glance to check. He saw May and- … Skye? What was she still doing here? She should be far away, out of the blast radius. Why hadn't May taken her away? "You said if we worked hard," Mike was saying, and as far away as he was even Ward could hear the desperation in his voice," if we did right…"

_'I have to put him down,_' Ward told himself, knowing they were nearing their time limit. Mike was about to blow, about to kill everyone in here. Including him, Coulson, May… and Skye.

"_You're going to have to kill some people in this job," _Clint's voice filtered back to him,"_But what makes it all worth it, is that we're doing it to protect others."_

He had to kill Mike Peterson. Even though he was a good guy, even though Coulson told him not to, even though he'd probably live to regret it for the rest of his life… he had to do it. _'We don't have any more time_,' he told himself, and still… he couldn't make himself pull the trigger.

"We'd have a place. You said it was enough to be a man. But there's better than man, there's gods. And the rest of us… what are we?"

'_We are nothing_,' Ward finished for him, understanding exactly what he meant. Ward's seen gods, seen what they can do, and in the face of all that power he knew how weak he truly was. He was just a man, they were _all_ just humans.

"They're giants, we're what they step on."

Coulson stepped forward," I know. I've seen giants, up close. And that privilege cost me."

It cost him his life, and that reminder sent Ward back to six months ago. Back to when he heard about Coulson's death, back to when he blamed Asgard and Loki and all things alien for the death of his mentor, of his father figure. It wasn't enough that Coulson was alive and here now. He wasn't there six months ago. He wasn't there when Ward's world fell apart.

"But the good ones, the real deal… they're not heroes because of what they have and we don't. It's what they do with it."

_"It matters who you are." _Who knew that Clint's words would echo twelve years into the future, and that Ward would live his life by them?

"Ward!" a familiar scottish voice pulled Ward out of his thoughts, out of his memories of the past. '_What the?'_ his head whipped up, seeing the red head scientist running towards him, carrying…

"The night night rifle!" Fitz all but shoved the odd looking gun, complete with blue glowing bits, into his hands," We got it to work!"

"Fitz, what-" Grant blinked at him, shocked to even see him here, not even registering that this was the first time he's even said Fitz's name out loud. This place was about to blow! He had to get out of-

"The bullets work!" Fitz kept pressing the rifle into his hands until he took it," They'll paralyze but won't kill him. It'll stop the chemical combustion caused by the centipede serum and-"

Ward didn't wait long enough to hear the rest. Without any hesitation, without pause, he whirled around… took aim… and pulled the trigger. After that, it was pretty much a blur. He saw Mike go down, falling on his back. Saw Simmons run forward to check on him; saw her turn around to smile at the others in reassurance. He saw the relief on Coulson and Skye's face. Fitz grinned back, holding a thumbs up, even as May ushered forth some paramedics.

Then Coulson looked up at him and Fitz, and smiled proudly. Grant smiled back; it's been far too long since he's seen that smile. Seven years was a long time, and they had a lot to catch up on. But at least…

His eyes roved over to Skye, who just looked so relieved and then she was smiling up at him too. _'At least everyone's alright,'_ he rejoiced.

* * *

"I wish we could've said goodbye," Fitz sighed. He sat across from Simmons in the kitchen, picking at his chinese take out (no one was really in the mood to cook). Ward didn't even have to ask to know he was talking about Skye. And for some inexplicable reason, he found himself agreeing with the scientist. After returning to the Bus and reporting back to Maria Hill, Coulson loaded Ace and Skye into Lola and then they were gone. Without so much as a goodbye or explanation.

Ward decided that was the reason why he was a little upset. It was the lack of details that had him on edge. Who knew what was going to happen to Ace? Mike was being sent to the Sandbox; the scientists there said they could find a way to permanently stabilize the Centipede serum. A few weeks with them, and Mike would be back home with his son.

Then there was the matter of Skye. Normal circumstances dictated that she'd be trialed by the review board, and most likely be sent to prison. She was after all a hacker for the Rising Tide. Yet, she had greatly helped the team today, and even went through a minor hostage situation. Not to mention she provided SHIELD with intel on Centipede. They wouldn't have even known about it if it weren't for her.

He mentally groaned; damnit, wasn't he just wishing he could throw her in jail this morning?

"She won't have to go to jail, will she?" Fitz asked, wide eyed. Ward frowned; how was it that the bumbling scientist always said the thing that was on Ward's mind?

"I don't think so," Simmons hummed thoughtfully," Agent Coulson didn't seem particularly upset with her. I'm sure after he drops Ace off at his aunt's, he'll bring Skye to her van. It's back in LA you know." Was it? Ward didn't know that, and that annoyed him. He briefly wondered what SHIELD agent had been charged with driving that piece of crap back from the train station.

Well, if she was going back to her van, at least then he'd know where she was. Maybe, when he wasn't busy on missions, he could go visit-

_Whoa_! Where had that thought come from?!

Ward blinked rapidly. What the fuck had he just been thinking? There was no way in this world that he was seriously contemplating visiting Skye on his free time. She's such a pain in his ass, he thought, she annoyed him every chance she got, with her hacking and stupid messages she bombarded SHIELD databases with, and snarky attitude. She just gets under his skin, and he didn't like it.

All of a sudden, the computer in the control center started going off. It wasn't a red alert, just a normal mission alert. "What do we got?" he asked, not bothering to get up. Fitzsimmons were closer anyways. The science twins scanned over the message, quickly reading it.

"Oh my…" the girl gasped in awe and wonder.

"It's an 0-8-4," her male counterpart -Fitz, Ward reminded himself- said, with more than a hint of glee in his voice.

That caught Ward's attention. "Are you serious?" he demanded, sitting up when they just nodded. '_Shit_,' he grumbled, grabbing his computer. "I'll get Coulson on the line." Phil would want to know about this right away. Anything 0-8-4 had to be taken care of immediately, and the sooner Coulson got back the sooner they could go check it out. He put his phone on speaker and set it on the table, aware that Fitzsimmons were standing over his shoulder.

Luckily, Coulson picked up after only a few seconds.** "What do you need, Ward?"**

"Sir, we've got an 0-8-4," he informed him.

**"Is that confirmed?"** Coulson sounded just as excited as Fitz, and just as doubtful as Ward.

Ward glanced at Fitzsimmons and -was she drinking a beer?- answered," They want us to go in and confirm it."

Then Fitz slapped him on the shoulder, in his little buddy-buddy way that pissed Ward off. '_Damnit Fitz!' _he almost snapped at him,' _I don't like to be touched.' _But alas, the engineer did not know that and it was doubtful he'd listen even if Ward told him.

Then, right before Coulson hung up the phone, Ward thought he heard Skye's voice ask," **What's an 0-8-4?"**


	7. Don't Touch Lola

A/N: Someone asked how Barton even got his hands on Lola in order to crash it. Here is how. Also, we learn about the Coulson Family life or death phone.

.

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Omaha, Nebraska

Six Years Ago

'_Shit, I'm dead. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead,' _Clint Barton chanted in his head, and was very close to tears at this point,' _I'm fucking dead. Oh man, Phil's going to kill me, right after he lets Natasha skin me alive, and then they're both going to dance over my unmarked grave!'_

Today could not get any worse. 'It's just a simple undercover mission,' they said. 'You'll be fine,' they said. Yes, it had seemed like a simple mission, nothing more than the usual. William B. Randall was suspected of funding the local radicalist group -who had a habit of experimenting with airborne toxins- and so Barton had the order to either take him in for questioning, or take him down. Fortunately for Clint, Randall had a weakness for classic cars, and if there was a car show in town he couldn't resist going.

That was where Barton came in. He'd go undercover as a car enthusiast, displaying his own classic car and offering it for sale. He'd then lure Randall, convince him to buy the car, and schedule a time for them to meet up privately to exchange paperwork and seal the deal. At which time, Barton would apprehend him, keep the car, and return back to SHIELD with both Randall and the car.

Unfortunately, SHIELD wasn't in the business of fancy cars and could not find one eligible to be entered into the car show. So then Phil Coulson stepped up, and under threat of maiming and death, Clint was allowed to borrow Lola.

Barton should've said no right then and there.

The car show went off without a hitch. Randall spotted Lola and the for-sale sign, he couldn't resist and made an offer right there on the display floor, and Clint suggested they meet up after the show and sign the paperwork.

That's when shit hit the fan.

Truth be told, Clint never did find out how Randall knew he was SHIELD. But as he drove up to the Randall estate, in Lola to appear genuine, the first thing he spotted wrong was the small black-suited army assembled in the driveway. Then the four black SUV's (_'How original,'_ Clint thought sarcastically) and the plethora of guns aiming his way. He actually never saw Mr. Randall -probably already across state lines- and as soon as Lola rolled into view, the bastards open fired.

That was when Clint began praying for his life. Not from the thugs now chasing him through Omaha, but from Coulson when he had to explain the bullet holes in Lola. Fuck the mission, he just wanted to get out of there and prevent any more damage coming to Lola. But these bastards were good and he couldn't shake them. Barton was so fucking lost, he made too many turns and 180's and now he had no idea where he even was. And they were still on his tail! And still shooting!

When Clint was speeding down a dim road by the marina, he glanced back. He was down to the last SUV; so Clint spun Lola around in a 180, put her in reverse, and drew his pistol.

Bang! He shot the headlights, watched the air bags deploy, and saw the SUV crash into a light pole and careen over the side and into the Missouri river. '_Hah_!' he cheered, and whipped the car back around to get the hell out of there. That's when he hit… something -he later found it to be fucking board with nails on it- and it blew the tire. At the speeds he was going, he lost control and Lola swerved violently to the left.

And ran straight on into a steel dumpster.

Which brought him to his current situation. Lola was totaled; there simply was no repairing that damage, he had a concussion and a few bruises, and he was a dead man walking.

"What am I going to do?!" he groaned. Phil was going to kill him. He couldn't call Natasha; as much as he loved her, he knew she'd rat him out to Coulson. Agents Hill, Sitwell, Blake, and Hand were sticklers for rules and protocol, and after they lectured him about the failed mission they'd hand him over to Coulson. Director Fury would just laugh. So that just left…

Clint pulled out his life or death phone, hit #3 on the speed dial (Natasha was #1, Coulson was #2) and waited for him to answer.

* * *

"Kid! Hey, kid!" Agent John Garrett slapped rookie agent Grant Ward over the head with an open hand," Why the _fuck_ is your phone ringing?!" Ward winced slightly at the hit, but he was used to it by now.

"I don't fucking know!" he hissed back, trying to keep his voice down, even thought Garrett was being the louder one. And his phone wasn't actually ringing, it was on vibrate. But in the dead silence of the night, where they were laying on a small hill, sniper rifles trained on the mansion 50 yards out, it sounded like a loud humming. They were waiting for their target to pass by a window, take him out, then hightail it out of there before the next guard came around.

The phone hummed in Ward's pocket again, and Garrett hit him again," Turn it off! Before you bring the dogs over here!"

'_Okay, okay,' _Ward scowled, making sure to hide it from him S.O. as he reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone. But when his fingers closed around it, he distinctly felt it _not_ vibrate. Yet he could still _hear_ it.

"You idiot!" Garrett hissed at him, and Ward had the suspicion he was about to be hit again soon," _Turn it off!"_

"It's not my phone!" Ward shot back.

Hummmmmm…

"It sure as hell _sounds_ like it." Thwack!

"Damnit, Garrett," Ward hissed, rubbing the back of his head," Stop it!"

"Then turn your phone off!"

Hummmmmm…

That's when Ward figured it out. "Fuck! Shit!" he swore and reached down to his ankle, where he had a small phone secured next to his knife," It's my life or death phone!"

"Your _what_?" Garrett rose an eyebrow, but Ward was already holding up the phone in victory as the thing buzzed again. His emergency AKA life or death phone. The one with only five numbers in it, and only five people knew its number: Fury, Hill, Coulson, Barton, and Romanov.

_"This phone is for life or death purposes only. If this phone **ever** rings, you pick it up,"_ he could still hear Fury's voice from when he first got this phone," _I don't care if you're in the middle of a mission, I don't care if you're having sex with a pretty girl. If this phone goes off, you damn well **pick it up.**"_

"My life or death phone," he explained," I have to get this."

"You have to _what_?!" Oh, Garrett sounded royally pissed off… But Ward was already scanning his thumb on the installed scanner and the phone unlocked. The phone lit up dimly, and the word 'Brother' showed up. "Your _brother's_ calling you?" Garrett voiced, sounding very confused," I thought he was a piece of shit that you left back in Massachusetts."

Garrett didn't know about Barton, Romanov, and Coulson adopting Ward -it had been unanimously decided when he joined the Academy that it was better if no one knew- so he didn't bother explaining to Garrett that it wasn't Maynard calling him. Instead, he just hit 'talk' and held the phone to his ear," What's wrong? Who's dying?"

**"I am," **came Clint's voice,**" And I just wanted you to know that I'm revising my will right now. I leave everything to you and Natasha. Except for my porn collection; give that to Fury."**

Ward gritted his teeth," What the fuck? You called me on the life or death phone just to-

**"Grant… I crashed and destroyed Lola."**

Ward fell silent instantly, a look of horror crossing his face. "You did _what_?" he choked out.

**"I got into a car chase, and Lola is now totaled."**

"Oh my god…." Ward was close to hyperventilating. Coulson _loved_ Lola. Even more than the three of them combined. If anything, _anything_, happened to his precious car… "You're a dead man," he told Clint.

**"You don't think I know that?! Why do you think I'm calling you on the life or death phone? _Help me!"_**

Garrett obviously had a lot of questions; he kept nudging Ward in the shoulder and motioned for him to put it on speaker, but Ward ignored him for the most part. "Why call _me_?" he asked Clint," I'm still a rookie; I can't save you."

Clint grumbled something on the other end.

"Why not call Sis?" Ward asked, making sure not to use Natasha's name with Garrett listening.

**"I _can't_,"** Barton cried**," You know she'll just hand me over to Coulson."** Ward had to agree with him on that one. She would do it with a smile on her face too.

"What about one of your safe houses?"

**"Nope. She knows about all of them."**

Ward sighed. If this wasn't so terrifying, this would be hilarious. Here he was, trying to save his surrogate big brother from his surrogate big sister and surrogate father. One day, this will make a funny story. But right now, it was just a headache. "I've got a couple," he offered," Just… hang tight and when I can, I'll send you the coordinates."

**"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank y-"**

Ward hung up. After he put the phone back, he turned and saw Garrett glaring at him. Oh shit, he was in _soo_ much trouble. Worst part? He couldn't even tell Garrett what that was about. "I would explain, but I can't," he sighed, and this time, he was fully expecting the slap upside his head.

.

.

A/N: I fully enjoyed writing this. :) as a side note, I thought it'd be interesting if no one really knew about Coulson adopting Ward. It will be especially interesting some Garrett doesn't know...


	8. Skye Joins the Team

Ward was walking down the stairs, finishing up the rest of his sandwich, when the cargo bay doors opened. '_Coulson's back, finally, _'he hummed and took the last step onto the platform. The sudden sunshine flooded the room and he had to shade his eyes, but he'd recognize that red glint from Lola any time. He never thought he'd miss that old car, but seven years later it was still such a welcome sight.

"Hey Coulson," he held a hand up in a wave," How'd the drive g-" He slipped to a halt when he saw that Coulson wasn't alone. Wearing a form fitting red dress that really shouldn't have been the first thing he noticed, Skye waved back to him from the passenger seat. "Hey, we got a welcoming party," she grinned, hopping out of the car.

She sauntered over to Ward, all smiles and feminine wile, and somewhere deep in Ward's mind he registered that she looked good with that red dress and brown boots. '_Nope!'_ he scolded himself,' _Stop thinking. Right now.' _"You look surprised to see me, Agent Ward," she purred, there really was no other way to put it, and damn if he didn't like it when she said his name like that.

Ward was dimly aware of Coulson stepping out of the car, watching the two of them with a knowing little smile on his face, but most of his attention was on the snarky woman in front of him. "What are you doing here?" he blurted out. He could've said it a bit nicer, he knew that, he just really wanted to know why she was here and not in LA. Shouldn't she be back at her van by now?

Just like that, her smile fell at his abrasive words. "Coulson made me an offer," she explained," I'm part of the team now."

"What?" Ward looked behind her at Coulson. "Sir, you can't be serious," he demanded an explanation.

Coulson just smiled that little smile of his and didn't answer. As if timed perfectly by him, a black SUV drove up -May at the wheel- followed by Skye's van. "Here we go," he hummed happily, then turned to Skye," Why don't you pack your things? I'll send Fitzsimmons down to show you to your bunk." Then he went to talk to May about the resupplies she brought back.

'_He's completely ignoring me!' _Ward fumed, knowing Coulson was doing it on purpose. So he settled for glaring at Skye. She just smirked and winked at him, then waltzed down the ramp towards her van. And when Ward caught himself glancing at her ass, he knew he was screwed. 'Damnit…

* * *

Once Coulson and May finished instructing the local SHIELD agents, they headed upstairs. They wanted to get a better look at the information about that 0-8-4 that HQ sent over.

So Coulson wasn't surprised when Ward followed them. "_Skye?"_ he argued," That girl's not qualified to be a SHIELD agent."

"Agreed," Coulson just shrugged. He knew what Ward's reaction would be to Skye joining the team, which is why he didn't tell him before Skye accepted the position. Ward didn't like new people, he never had; it was hard enough on him just being placed on a team. Coulson also knew that Skye got on Ward's nerves; she got under his skin, challenged him and butted heads with him at every possible chance. While amusing for the rest of them, Coulson knew it was infuriating for Ward. "That's why I've invited her on as a consultant."

May scoffed. Her position on hiring Skye was well known, and it was not any better than Ward's. She was just more quiet about it.

"SHIELD does it all the time. Technically, Stark's a consultant," Coulson pointed out.

Ward scowled at the reminder; that doesn't mean he liked Stark. But, Barton liked him, so that was the only reason he and Romanov put up with him. "And technically, Skye's a member of the Rising Tide," he shot back," She hacked our RSA implementation."

"Twice," was his answer, and Coulson sounded a little bit too proud," from a laptop. Imagine what she'll do with our resources."

He was just so infuriatingly _trusting_, that it almost made Ward pull out his hair. "I _am_," he interjected," That's exactly what I'm imagining during this round." Didn't Coulson understand that she could do so much more damage with their resources? She could hack the entire SHIELD database and compromise its secrets and risk hundreds of SHIELD agents' lives! "You brought me on for risk assessment. She's a risk."

He leaned forward on the table. "She doesn't think like us." She's a free spirit, unable to understand responsibility and consequences. Protecting the greater good wasn't in her interest. She didn't have the SHIELD values.

"Exactly," Coulson smiled, making Ward roll his eyes.

Finally, May spoke up. "We have two kids on this team who aren't cleared for combat, and you're adding a third." (Ward was a little happy that someone finally agreed with him that Fitzsimmons were too young) Still, they were better than Skye.

"At least Fitzsimmons are trained SHIELD scientists," he added," But Skye?" He shot Coulson a disappointed look," You said this was a select team. Assembled to work new cases. To protect people." A glance at May told him that she agreed with him. "I don't see how letting some hacker tag along is going to-"

Then Coulson cut him off," You're looking for an objection I haven't already anticipated." Ward and May fell silent. Then Coulson directed his patent 'I'm in charge' look at both of them," I'm calling this. But your disagreement will be on record." His tone suggested that was the end of that.

'_This is bullshit_,' Grant thought, but kept his mouth shut.

_Rule Number Four: When Coulson says 'I'm calling the shots' you drop the issue_

With a heavy sigh and an annoyed expression, he decided to just get back to the mission. "We're called in to investigate an 0-8-4," he explained," We all know what that means."

"Yes we do," Coulson nodded," It means-" he shrugged," we don't know what that means." He handed the tablet to May with the coordinates, who then headed for the cockpit. As she walked out, Ward looked up in time to see Fitzsimmons and Skye enter the lounge.

Simmons was leading the way, Skye carrying two bags, and Fitz carrying a box. "-but we call it the Bus," Fitz was explaining," We find it best to use shorthand when in the field." Ward huffed; Fitzsimmons never been in the field. "But everything has to be just so, you know," Fitz continued," because of the _danger_." At that moment, Ward realized what Fitz was trying to do.

_'He's trying to impress her,'_ he thought in equal parts amusement and disbelief,'_Someone's got a little crush.'_ It was actually kind of cute, seeing the bumbling little scientist trying to act all macho for Skye. It was even more amusing when it was clear Skye either didn't realize he was doing it, or she just wasn't that into him.

"Yeah," she said nonchalantly," I've been up here before, but I didn't see much because of the _bag_ that Agent Ward put over my head." Ward had to suppress a grin at that, but he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Simmons on the other hand, winced at the reminder of Skye's first introduction to the team," Yes. So sorry about that."

'_I'm not,'_ he countered in his head, watching as the three passed the control center. None of them seemed to realize he was still there and he wasn't about to remind them. "Water?" she offered a bottle of water to Skye.

"**Wheels up in two. Lock it or lose it," **May said over the intercom.

"What's that mean?" Skye asked.

Simmons just smiled sweetly. "No backing out now," she said much to Ward's chagrin," Come on, let's find a bunk for our guest."

Fitz perked up at that, rushing to go put Skye's stuff down in the only bunk available. "And there's only one left, and it's right next to mine," he said proudly, opening the door for Skye. Ward followed after them, still unseen, but highly amused. While Fitz was setting the box in her bed before the two of them hightailed it out of there, Ward picked up the safety pamphlet. Coulson told him to read it, but it wasn't really necessary. But Skye didn't know that.

The instant Fitzsimmons left, he knocked on the frame of her door, and she looked up at him. And she smiled at him, much to his annoyance. Why did she have to smile at him? "Hey, I know we didn't get off on the right foot," she started, but he didn't let her finish.

He handed her the pamphlet," Might want to read that. This isn't like other planes." Then he made to walk away, but what she said next made him pause.

"Good idea, I've never been on a plane before."

'_What?'_ He turned back to her," Really?"

She was still in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb and flipping open the pamphlet. "How have you never been on a plane before?" he asked, truly curious.

Skye just shrugged. "I could never afford it." And that just rose more questions. Wasn't she a hacker? She could've easily just hacked her way into any flight plan she wanted. Or hacked her account to make it look like she had more money than she actually did. He's seen other hackers do it before, and with how good she was, she could easily do it.

Before he could ask, Coulson walked up and shooed him off. He wanted to talk to Skye, without Ward hovering around. So Ward just headed to his own bunk. He was going to sulk the entire way to Peru, because this mission sucked and with Skye on board, he had a feeling it was only going to get worse

* * *

Barcelona, Spain

Mornings in Spain were awesome, in Clint Barton's book. There was always just the right amount of sunshine, the scent of sea air, and having a beautiful woman curled up at your side made it one thousand times better. Especially when that woman was Natasha Romanov. Or rather, Marissa Roberts if one were to go by their covers. And he was Daniel Roberts and they were newlyweds on their honeymoon to Barcelona. And if they happened to take down a drug lord tycoon while here, all the merrier.

So being that it was the start of a wonderful day, Clint didn't mind all that much when his phone rang. He knew it woke up Natasha, but he was pretty sure she woke up anyways the instant he did. But she didn't complain so he just reached over and grabbed it. "Buenas dias," he greeted, loving the way Spanish sounded on his tongue.

**"It's _buenos_ dias, Clint. You suck at Spanish."**

Clint grinned when the sound of his baby brother's voice reached his ears. "Grant? Well, this is a nice surprise." Beside him, Natasha stirred and soon her head popped up, red curls in disarray.

"Grant's on the phone?" she repeated, then told Clint to put it on speaker. "_Dobroye_ _utro, mladshiy brat_," she greeted in Russian.

" **_Ey, starshaya sestra_**," Ward answered back.

Clint poked his lover in the shoulder," Hey, we're in _Spain_. You can't be going around speaking _Russian_."

She promptly told him to shut up in Hungarian.

"So what's up?" she asked Grant, ignoring the pout on Clint's face," We haven't heard from you in a while."

**"I was undercover in Paris."**

"Sounds nice," she hummed, though inside she was fuming. Hill sent him undercover, right after Natasha specifically told them to go easy on Ward for a while? Oh, someone was going to pay once they got back to the states…

**"Not as fancy as my current gig,**" Ward said, blissfully unaware that Natasha was planning Maria Hill's death. Clint however, knew just how angry Nat was, and so he was the one to answer," Really? What's that?"

For some reason, Ward sounded a little put out,"** They put me with a team on a mobile command unit. It's all decked out and fancy and over the top and my team is annoying."**

Clint rolled his eyes," Oh, you poor baby. Sounds horrible. Did they put you with a bunch of rookies?" But inside, he was cheering. Being on a team would be good for Grant.

**"Worse. We've got a hacker consultant,"**Ward sounded like a petulant child, which made Clint laugh. **"It's not funny. She's Rising Tide."**

Clint and Natasha recognized the name well enough. They've dealt with Rising Tide members, though it was surprising that SHIELD took one in as a consultant. Then Natasha realized Ward's slip up," Wait, 'she'?"

Ward swore at her in German.

Natasha grinned wickedly," Is one little girl too much for you to handle, sweetie?" She knew he hated to be called pet names. Ward swore again, this time in French, just to make it more colorful. They both just laughed.

**"Laugh all you want," **he retorted,"** I had some really good news I was going to tell you, but now I'm going to make you go ask Hill."**

'I was going to have words with her anyways,' Natasha hummed.

"Some really good news, huh?" Clint echoed," Like what?"

**"Not going to tell you now. Level 7 and up only."**

"What?!" Clint barked," Level 7? Since when did you get level 7 clearance?" That was just unfair! He and Natasha were only level 6!

**"Since two days ago."**

This time, Clint was the one to swear in another language. How were they only finding this out now? Grant should've called them the instant he got promoted.

**"I have to go,"** Ward said quickly,**" I'll call you next time I have a chance."**

"Hey, I'm not done wi-" Click. "He hung up on me!"

Natasha chuckled. "That's usually how phone calls between you two end." Then she rolled over so she was straddling Clint. She smirked down at him, liking how his eyes darkened with lust. "You know, we don't have be anywhere until nine," she stated," And since we're already up…" He grinned, his fingers drawing little patterns on her hips. "Whatever shall we-"

Ring! His text message alert went off.

"Damn it!" he swore, but reached for his phone anyways. With a snarl, he opened his texts and saw a message from Grant. _'One last question: What's a T-1000?'_

"What the hell?" Clint blinked. What an odd question, and yet so sad that Ward didn't know. "This kid needs to get out more," he mused, typing in his own message,' _Watch_ _the Terminator 2. Why do you ask?'_

It took less than five seconds for the response to come back,' _The Rising Tide girl keeps calling me that.'_

Barton crowed," Oh, I _like_ this girl!" He held his phone out to Natasha so she could read too. "Nat, we need to send this girl a gift basket."


	9. Meet the Avengers

A/N: So, had a funny thing happen. I had someone go onto one of my other stories (a story for Naruto, no less) and ask me to update this story. This one, 'Pivotal Moment' on the SHIELD fandom. I stared at it with my head tilted for about three minutes, trying to figure out _why... _Then I had to congratulate them (who unfortunately just used 'guest' instead of a name so I can't tell them in person) for honestly surprising my and I must say, that was the most original plea for an update I've ever seen.

So, I said hell with it and I came up with this. Enjoy mysterious guest reviewer.

* * *

Avenger Tower: New York City

Five and a Half Months Ago

This was a bad idea. Such a bad idea, terrible really. Who's idea was this anyways? Oh yeah, _Barton's_. Stupid Barton and his stupid ideas and what made it worse was that he actually _listened_ to Clint's dumb ideas. And Natasha was backing him up too, the traitor. Though to be fair, she would side with Barton if she was ever forced to choose, every time.

Still, Ward had hoped she might've at least discouraged this insane plan.

It hurt just to be standing here, in the well lit hallways and staring at the closed door in front of him. '_It's just a door,_' he told himself but it didn't make him feel any better. There was still that ache in his chest, like a large piece of his soul had been ripped out. Barton thought that this would help him fill that void; thought that if he went through with this, maybe it wouldn't hurt so goddamn much.

What Ward didn't tell Clint was that the gaping hole felt like it had already been filled with lava and acid and poison and all the things that hurt in this world.

With a hand that trembled more than he felt comfortable with, he knocked twice on the closed door. Every room in Stark Tower was soundproof, but he imagined that all conversation on the other side of the door stopped. Briefly, Ward wondered if Clint and Natasha told them he was coming. Knowing those two, they probably didn't.

At least JARVIS let him in the building. (Ward was still a little disconcerted about a building that talked, much less one that knew who he really was) It had been strange when that voice in the ceiling asked if he wanted 'him' to inform the others that he was here. Ward simply said that Natasha already knew he was coming to visit.

Only a few seconds passed before the door was opened from the other side. To his relief, the one that answered the door was Clint. Ward tried not to notice all of the people in his peripheral vision, and instead focused on his foster brother.

"I half thought you wouldn't show up," Barton mumbled, without the usual smile that was almost always on his face.

There was no smile on Ward's face as well. "Nat threatened to hang me by my toes if I didn't," he answered. Clint gave a little huff, a semblance of a chuckle but neither of them gave the effort to actually smile at the joke.

"That _is_ something Tash would do…" Shaking his head lightly, he moved aside to let Ward enter. "C'mon, I promise this won't be as bad as you think."

Grant seriously doubted that.

* * *

_"Be nice_," Romanov warned all of them, but her eyes were more aimed at Tony Stark. At the warning obviously being directed at him, Tony threw his arms up from his sides. "Why are you lookin' at me?" he asked incredulously.

Beside him, Pepper slapped a hand across his shoulder," Just listen to her, Tony."

Natasha continued as if Tony never spoke," It took a lot of convincing just to get him to come. So I expect you to be on your best behavior, and not ask him too many questions. He gets really defensive when it comes to his personal life."

"Umm, excuse me?" Tony held up a hand as if in school," But am I correct in the assumption that you invited a _stranger_ to _my_ tower?" Pepper hit him again. "What? We don't even know who it is, and she's the one telling _us_ to be nice?"

This time, it was Steve who spoke up," That's because you have no manners, Stark." There was a condescending frown on his face as he sipped from his morning coffee and leaned against the counter. Then his eyes roved over to Natasha who was still scowling at Tony. "But he's got a point," he added," Who _is_ at the door?"

Her eyes flickered towards him, and for an instant Steve thought he saw a hint of vulnerability on her face. "He's family," she said quietly, and the entire room fell silent.

Well… that was entirely unexpected. Not only did none of them think she had any family other than Barton, but that she was willing to let them _meet_ him was on another level. Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton were the most secretive of the entire bunch of them, and it had taken them two whole weeks for them to even accept Tony's invitation to live at Stark Tower (affectionately nicknamed Avenger Tower).

Even Tony, the master of inappropriate sarcasm, had nothing to say at this moment. The only one who spoke was Bruce, who calmly set down the newspaper before asking Natasha," Is there anything specific we should know?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment Clint walked back in, followed by a man none of them knew. He stopped in the doorway, literally halting in his steps and unable to enter the dining room. Even when Barton paused and turned to gesture for him to come in, he just shook his head.

He was… well, exactly what one would expect from a super secret spy organization. Tall and well built, wearing all black and to be honest, looked ridiculously handsome. (Tony briefly wondered if good looks was a job requirement in order to work for SHIELD) At another time, he also might've looked tough, but with the wary expression on his face right now, he just looked… scared.

"Everyone, this is Grant Ward," Clint clapped a hand on the newcomer's shoulder. With the hand on shoulder, he steered Grant into the room and started introductions. "This is Bruce Banner-" Bruce waved with one hand "-this asshole is Tony Stark-" There was a shit eating grin on Tony's face, as if he thoroughly approved the adjective attached to his name "-and Pepper Pots." She smiled sweetly at Ward, who just nodded in acknowledgment to her, unable to muster up the will to smile back.

Then Barton steered his foster brother over to the last occupant of the room. Steve Rogers politely set down his mug on the counter and straightened up to greet the soldier. It was clear to him that Grant Ward was a soldier, it was something military men always seemed to pick up around others, the ability to pick out who their soldier brethren were. It was in the way Ward carried himself, despite his obvious unwillingness to be there. "Hi, I'm Steve Rogers," he tried to smile encouragingly at the younger man (even though physically they appeared to be the same age) and held out his hand.

That's when everything went wrong. Barton saw it first, saw how Ward paused midstep, literally freezing when he locked eyes with Captain America. Yet it was Steve who saw the whites of Grant's eyes, saw his pupils contract as he sucked in a shallow breath, then hold it. The next thing anyone knew, Ward turned on his heels and booked it through the door.

"Fuck," Clint swore and ran after him, turning to Natasha just before the doorway," You were right: seeing his dad's hero reminded him."

Usually, Natasha liked it when someone told her she was right, but in this instance she just sighed and hung her head. "Damn it," she swore under her breath, but they all heard her just the same," I hate being right."

"What just happened?" Tony was the first to ask.

"Wait," Steve was the next to speak up, his head whipping around look inquisitively," Did he say 'his dad's hero'?"

A guilty look crossed Natasha's face. "Well…" she began, glancing at Bruce, who like the others was looking at her expectantly," Remember when you asked if there was anything specific you should know?"

"Yeah?" he crossed his arms and nodded.

"…You just met Coulson's son…"

* * *

Somewhere over Central America

Present Day

Coulson paused in his steps as he passed the lounge on his way to his office and bedroom. The reason for such was lounging on the couch, his feet propped up on one armrest and his head on the other end. Ward had a hand behind his head while the other comfortably held his phone in front of him, the movie _Terminator 2_ displayed on the screen and the volume down low.

"Ward," Coulson called and walked over to the couch and its movie watching occupant," It's one in the morning, what are you doing still up?" His approach did not surprise Ward, which was nothing new really; he had a scary good sense of situational awareness and no doubt knew the instant Coulson entered the room.

Without taking his eyes off his phone, Ward answered," Waiting for you actually." At that, Coulson raised an eyebrow," While watching the _Terminator_?"

Ward just shrugged. "Clint suggested I watch it," he said, then pausing his movie he sat up so he could look properly at his mentor," Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about." His face was grim and serious, as it was wont to do, but even Coulson could tell that there was something weighing heavily on Ward's mind. Unfortunately, he had a brief suspicion what it might be about.

With a deep exhale, Coulson crossed his arms," Look, if this is still about Skye, I've made up my mind. She stays."

But Ward was shaking his head. "No, it's not about her," he began, then paused momentarily as if to correct his own words," Well, that's a whole other issue, but I'll bug you about it later-" A smile cracked across Coulson's face; he had no doubt that Ward would bring it up tomorrow for sure. "-but really I just…"

He paused again and furrowed his eyebrows, in the way he always did when he couldn't quite find the words for what he was trying to say. Coulson smiled, happy to know that some things never changed with his foster son. It was comforting… to see the way Grant would glance down and to the side, his eyebrows furrowed and one corner of his lips pursed, in the exact same way he did as a kid.

Truth be told, Coulson was worried about him, even more so when he finally got to see him only a few short days ago. These past seven years hadn't been easy. Coulson did his best to keep his distance, to give Ward the chance to be a SHIELD agent on his own, to make it through the ranks with his own strength… just the way he wanted.

Sure, they had talked on the phone off and on these past years, but it wasn't the same. Coulson, Barton, nor Romanov had been present for any of Ward's official SHIELD missions. They hadn't seen how well or how bad he had done; hadn't been able to sit with him and help him after the particularly hard ones; hadn't been able to congratulate him on a job well done.

When, in Mission Control, he asked if he was supposed to take out the Rising Tide member (whom at the time they didn't know to be Skye), Coulson felt a little bit of his heart break. Where was the young man who hated death, who promised as a kid that he would never kill someone who was good, who had a good and compassionate heart? It scared Coulson, when he asked him that and he honestly flustered at that moment, a tiny bit unsure if this was his same boy.

And yet… today, Ward proved himself. For however much he preached on how necessary it was to shoot Mike, he never took the shot… Coulson knew: Ward had a thousand and one chances to shoot Mike, to take him out, but not once did he fire, not before the Night Night rifle.

With a smile, and the hope that maybe Ward hadn't changed all that much since he left all that time ago, Coulson sat on the couch next to him. Ward himself sighed, getting frustrated that he couldn't get the words out. "I just…" he started, then stumbled again," It's been, well… a _while_ and then six months ago- you know…" Yes, he did know. Six months ago, Coulson died and he knew that it had been hard on Ward. A part of him wondered how he coped those months, how he dealt with his death, and though he knew Clint and Natasha helped, it couldn't have been easy. Especially for Natasha, who had had to take care of both the boys: Grant who had always been emotionally unstable, and Clint who had been possessed by an evil god.

"Agh," a sound of frustration escaped Ward's mouth and he threw his head back to look skyward," What I'm _trying_ to say is-"

"I missed you too, Grant."

It amused Coulson how Ward's eyes shot wide open and he snapped his head back up to stare at him open mouthed. Then his face softened and there was that disbelieving smile and head shake. "You understood all that rambling?" 'All that rambling' couldn't have been more than ten words, so most of it must've been internal and Coulson chuckled. Only Grant would think that a few broken sentences was 'rambling'.

With a smile, Coulson leaned his head on the back of the couch. A deep sigh escaped him," Seven years…"

"Ten if you count the three I was in the academy…"

"Hey, I made it to your graduation," Coulson defended himself, but seeing the grin on Ward's face he knew he was only teasing. 'Brat,' he thought, but still smiled and shook his head.

"But really," Ward continued," You have no idea how much it means to me that you chose me to be part of this team. To be on _your_ team again."

Coulson smiled," I'm glad you came along." Then he stood up -it was way past bedtime- and swiped his hands over his suit to straighten out any wrinkles that may have appeared. "I'm going to bed," he announced," and so should you. We'll be in Peru tomorrow." Ward waved, grabbing his phone again and probably planning on finishing his movie before going to bed.

But before Coulson exited the room, he turned around to add," Besides, can't have a team without 'Baby Brother' Grant Ward."

"Hey!" Ward whisper-yelled after him, but Coulson was already out of sight," I still want my code name to be changed! It's _stupid_!"

All he heard was an echo of Coulson's chuckle.

* * *

A/N: Here ya'll go! I tried to give you some father-son love. Or at least, as much as you can with a robot like Ward. Next chapter will be up soon; just putting finishing touches on it. 


End file.
